Shadowed Hearts
by angelofnight
Summary: Two souls made for one another, but thrust into untold horrors, don't always come out good on the other side. But … with enough love and understanding and growth … maybe they can wash away the filth and horror and trauma … and be reborn with just slightly Shadowed Hearts... (AU Erik/Bella fic) 11/20 ON HIATUS due to technical difficulties
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: This story is a fanfiction of a fanfiction … of a fanfiction. An AU story based on my own "Miri Kom" which is mostly inspired by Susan Kay's "Phantom", and Leroux's "The Phantom of the Opera". While Leroux's novel is out of copyright, I assume that Kay's novel is not. I intend to make no profit off of this story.**_

_**For all those who were upset that Arabella had to die in "Miri Kom"...**_

_**This is a "What If" situation of what would happen IF Arabella had not died from her self-inflicted wound in "Miri Kom". Those who believe life might have been a bit better for Erik if Arabella had survived are about to find out just how wrong they are. Just how wrong Arabella was questioning that exact scenario in its' sequel story "From the Ashes". Prepare for darkness, some perversion … and probably a whole lot of hating Erik … maybe even Arabella.**_

_**Fanfiction author E.M.K.81 is my co-author of this story, and I highly recommend you go see her works. I particularly recommend "If Love Were a Flower". I don't think I've ever read a fanfiction so long!**_

_**Once again, please excuse any editing mistakes such as typos or unintelligible gaps. I am legally blind and reading over my work even once, never mind repeatedly, swiftly gives me headaches. But I'll do my best. Please don't expect another chapter for a while. This is a) testing the waters for an audience and b) a tease while I build up back chapters!**_

_**Synopsis: Two souls made for one another, but thrust into untold horrors, don't always come out good on the other side. But … with enough love and understanding and growth … maybe they can wash away the filth and horror and trauma … and be reborn with just slightly Shadowed Hearts...**_

Chapter One

Ma Non Troppo

Arabella sighed, brushing her fingers through her dark hair in an attempt to get all the knots out. It was dim in the _tsera_, and she was surrounded by the soft light pattering of raindrops. It had been a long, wet, utterly _boring_ day for her. In the month that had passed since the nearly fatal infection had finally reversed itself and allowed her – quite literal - miraculous recovery, she'd been permitted to do very little. Her husband was terrified for her well-being, insisting she not return to work or any kind of strain whatsoever until she was completely healed from the stab wound that had almost killed her.

It had taken her baby already. Taken the baby growing inside of her that would have given them a family. And yet her body still had not healed. She'd gotten worse; the infection continuing and worsening until it was in her blood. Erik had worked tirelessly with the help of Bella's grandmother, Tsifia, to try and save her. Nothing had seemed to help. The fever had worsened until she was delirious. Her body had weakened and begun ridding itself of all toxins possible through the most foul of ways. For days Bella had only been able to lie helplessly on the ground while her husband and grandmother tended to her rebellious body.

He had sworn up and down that she had actually died right in his arms in the middle of the night. Her poor husband... he'd been exhausted and had begun to lose hope. In spite of the doctors' visit Erik had managed to attain, and the very strong medications Erik had impoverished them to purchase, he said that she had only gotten worse. Her body had suffered something much like convulsions, and then she had seemed to weaken unto the point of death. He insisted again and again that he'd been able to tell she was not breathing for nearly a full minute. He had not been able to find a pulse.

This could not be true, of course. He'd been so worried about her, so exhausted from caring for her for so long. It had been his morbid imagination. A fearful fantasy. Otherwise, how could she be alive now and trying to take care of their little _tsera_ while he performed and humiliated himself for the masses?

She made her way over to the flap of their tent and pushed it aside. She could see Erik on his stage – which he'd erected only a few yards away so as to be close by if she needed anything. Ever since her recovery had allowed it, he'd been performing nine or more times a day. He would go from magician to musician and back again, sometimes singing or playing the violin or even the little wooden flute she'd given him. And sometimes, when he thought the crowd started to look bored, he would fling his mask off and give everyone the most humiliating experience he could contrive of. He would force them to witness his terribly deformed, corpse-like visage. Then he would punish them for the sight by tearing through their ears and into their souls with a song so beautiful and sorrowful that people left in waterfalls of tears.

It was what brought in the most money. Given her limited mobility, Erik did not dare pick too many pockets. If he was clumsy just one single time – or noticed by the wrong sharp eye – then he would never be able to escape the law. It would bring in so much more money to share with the tribe … but he simply did not dare being arrested when his wife was still so weak and helpless. Unable to provide for herself.

This was no longer entirely true. Bella had been able to walk and move for many days now. But Erik insisted it was much too soon for her to return to work. Even if she were to simply help her grandmother in her own tent, Erik feared Bella would suffer a relapse in the infection her body had valiantly defeated with the help of both medicine and gypsy remedies. Every time she left the tent, he would inexorably herd her back inside and sit down with her to keep her from wandering off.

It was very sweet, how well he tended to her. But it was also utterly infuriating. She knew what her body was capable of, and she knew herself to be quite recovered from the injury and infection that had nearly taken her life. Why could Erik not trust her to return to work slowly and know her own limits? The entire tribe supported them now. There was no one who would let her risk harm by overworking. And it was just so _boring_ in the tent all day while Erik worked! It didn't matter how he taught her to properly read and write in the evenings. Did not matter how he at least tried to teach her the basics of playing a violin. These things were not enough to take up her entire day without causing a massive headache. She was not used to straining her eyes so much in the _tsera;_and Erik refused to hear of her being out of the tent for longer than it took to relieve herself in a nearby stand of shrubbery. He wouldn't even let her walk all the way to the woods as others did! No. She had to go in that thick copse of shrubs, no matter whether or not they had to live with the growing smell!

Bella noticed her grandmother passing by Erik's performance; carrying what looked to be a rather cumbersome chair under one arm and an even clumsier bag over the shoulder of the other. Bella lurched forward at once, ignoring the fact that Erik would instantly see her out in the open. She tried very hard to be a good obedient wife … but this well-meant imprisonment simply had to end sometime!

"Let me help you, _Bunica_." she offered as she approached Tsifia. The older woman had aged dramatically in the past months. She looked eighty or older due to all the strain the family had been through this past year. The poor woman had truly lost her daughter, witnessed the attempted suicide of her granddaughter, and then almost seen the same granddaughter slip away due to an infection she desperately wished to survive. That would be enough strain to break a lesser person, but Tsifia had come out almost whole on the other end.

Arabella took the uneven bag, wincing at the slight ache in her abdomen. She didn't understand why it hadn't hurt much more before the infection had set in. Even Tsifia hadn't been able to tell her why the injury was so much more painful now compared to before the wound had properly healed.

"Erik isn't going to like that." Tsifia warned with a glint of dark humor in her eyes. She glanced at the currently masked magician up on the platform by Bella's tent. Erik was currently working with fire and making the crowd gasp and shriek with awed fear as he seemed to conjure and juggle it from all directions. "But it's been a long day. I suppose carrying some jars a few yards won't kill you now."

"I _should_ be dancing up on that stage." Bella muttered bitterly. "But Erik says not for another month. That's _if_ he thinks that I am ready by then. I'm sure he'll come up with some excuse."

"Well you are the girl who decided to marry a _gaje._" Tsifia pointed out. "The men do all the work that I can tell. Although I've seen plenty of women doing their fair share, too. Erik must come from a middle class or even upper class belief that his wife should stay home and keep house."

"_He_ chose to marry a _Romany_. woman" Arabella countered. "If he doesn't want his wife to work, perhaps he should have found a woman from his own caste."

Tsifia did not respond to this. It was a harsh thing for Bella to say in spite of her frustration. She knew that if Erik had stood a real chance of finding a woman from his own lifestyle, Bella would never have met him. No doubt she would still be living under her fathers' canvas roof, awaiting the birth of his bastard grandchild/child. She would be getting beaten every single day to one extreme or another. Maybe Adnah even would still be alive, either disgusted by her predicament and thus scared off of her … or willing enough to give the child a name so that she was waiting to be forced to marry him. Adnah could have afforded a bride price, after all. He just had not been in any rush to marry. Not when there had been so many gullible _gaje_ women to keep his lusts satisfied while he tried and failed to win Arabella over.

Without Erik … she would be an entirely different kind of dead.

Bella helped her grandmother carry the bag and chair into her _tsera_ and began pulling out jars of herbs and medicines to organize on a small collapsible shelf. Tsifia liked to keep things organized, even when they weren't in use.

"Tomorrow I will tell Erik that I am helping you with customers." Bella decided.

"Tomorrow you will ask him permission." Tsifia snorted. "He is your husband, Bella. You should at least respect his wishes."

"And he should respect mine." Bella nearly hissed. "I love that he worries so much, but I can't take it anymore! I will go crazy if I have to spend one more day alone in that tent!"

Sighing, Tsifia shook her head.

"You married him." she repeated. "You are still children yet. You will find your balance together. Just give it time. He will calm down. I'm sure of it. Young boys are always so earnest!"

She hesitated in the process of going back outside to light her usual evening fire.

"_Good_ young boys at least. And I think Erik is trying his best to be a good boy."

Bella sighed, looking through her grandmothers' many tea leaves to pick which one she might want. Tsifia rarely ever complained about her selection before.

"Bella!"

She winced at the sound of Erik's voice in the doorway of Tsifia's tent. He sounded relieved, as if he hadn't been perfectly aware of her presence from the moment she left their own tent. She turned to raise her eyebrows at him curiously; as if she weren't directly acting against his urgent desires for her to stay put and safe.

"Yes, Erik?" she asked innocently. "Are you done for the day? You should take those robes off and come have some tea with me and _Bunica_."

"Can't your grandmother come and have tea with _us_?" Erik asked almost sulkily. He rarely ever began taking her arm and pulling her home. He never outright ordered her to do _anything_. But she knew when he asked her to stay put and rest, it wasn't simply a gentle request. He was a husband commanding his wife to do as she was told.

"I'm sure she could." Bella stubbornly folded her arms across her chest. "But I am tired of staring at those same walls day in and day out."

"You think I don't get bored of that?" Erik demanded a little irritably.

"_You_ haven't been stuck within them for twenty-four hours a day for four weeks!" Bella's own irritation rose to met his, even though they were not fully arguing yet. She attempted a laugh to keep this from turning _into_ a long put-off fight. "Please, Erik. I'm hardly doing anything difficult. Looking at tea leaves, sitting out in the fresh air. It's not going to do me any harm."

Erik fidgeted, half in shadow and half in the gloom of the rainy afternoon.

"What about supper?" he asked. "Do you want to have _supper_ here, too?"

"Why can't we have our supper out there like everyone else?" She motioned in the vague direction of the clumped fires where many of the other Romany tribe members cooked their meals and sat together as if at a wedding banquet. It was not as though separate families never sat apart. But cooking larger quantities of meat together that everyone had paid for was much easier than fending for oneself. Erik knew how the community functioned. He'd been watching it for months. He'd been _taking part_ in the community; trying to help out with his own earnings whenever he felt he could. Only a few other families were willing to accept that help … but at least he made the effort. Given his past with the tribe, Erik could have let them all starve while he took in all the money he earned completely for himself and his wife. Bella knew he didn't particularly like doing it … but he did it all for her. To make her happy by participating in the life she had grown up trying so hard to be a part of herself.

It was only quite recently that she'd learned ostracism had not been entirely the fault of the tribe itself; but that of her father. Yaakov Lyberia had done everything in his power to keep Arabella under his thumb and away from the other Romany people his wife belonged to. The man had stood outside of the community to the best of his ability while never outright being separate from them. He'd been begrudgingly accepted by the Romany due to his wife, and his in-laws taking him in against their better judgment. No matter how they had felt about Yaakov, they had been unwilling to give up Noleta and the soon-to-be Arabella.

Now Erik was the outsider. Unlike Yaakov, however, he did not make an effort to remain completely separate. He tried to share his earnings with them because the community meant so much to Bella and Tsifia. He highly respected Arabella's grandmother and was willing to do a great deal to repay her kindnesses and how she'd gone out of her way to make things easier for him.

Everything had been done for love of Bella; by her husband, her grandmother, and the chief of their people. If she had understood this at an earlier time … she never would have lost her baby. Never would have come close to dying. And who was she to resent their love when she finally felt accepted, appreciated, and cherished?

But … that did not mean she should have to live in her _tsera_ for the rest of her life!

"Bella..." Erik groaned, rubbing at his non-existent nose through the mask he still wore. She wondered how such silliness offered him any relief at all. "You _know_ why. Do we _really_ want to ruin the appetites of every single Romany in the _county_? I can't eat without my mask!"

"Then let _bunica_ and I ..." But her voice trailed off when Erik flinched slightly. She had not even completed her sentence and she had managed to wound her husbands' fragile emotions. She had suggested dining away from him... leaving him to his own devices. That was nearly a sin in Bella's eyes, because he so rarely ever wanted to be more than arms' length from her nowadays. Willingly being that far away from him just to eat when he'd been humiliating himself all day and earning _both_ their keep just … didn't seem justifiable. Arabella sighed heavily. "Never mind,_ miri kom_. Yes. We'll eat here with _bunica_, if you agree to it. Then, if you want to go directly back to our _tsera_, I will not argue with you. You can even tuck me right into bed if you want, instead of us having another lesson."

Erik looked torn between relief and uncertainty. She could clearly tell that he actually wanted to give her more freedom. That he would like to see her happy and doing all _she_ wished to do. But his concern for her well-fare still scarred all his thoughts and emotions. He apparently needed more time, still, before he could give into her obvious need for fresh air and open skies.

"I will check on the pig." he murmured, turning and disappearing back towards their own tent. Erik had been away the previous night acquiring a pig from a nearby farm. Through nefarious means or through honest ones Bella did not know or care. But he'd come back with a suckling pig that looked as if it had died healthy enough, and it had been roasting all day. Bella had been permitted to check on it so long as she didn't strain herself, and Erik himself had been turning it between performances. No doubt he would share a great deal of the meat with any neighbors who would deign to take his offer of such sustenance.

But not before Arabella ate enough to satisfy his concern about her.

It was a nice evening. In spite of the rain that left them all mildly damp, the weather was warm and the world was reasonably quiet. A few people sat around the campfires playing instruments. Others danced to that music; and occasional raucous laughter broke into the serenity of the night. But mostly it was filed with low, murmured conversations and the crackling of well over a dozen small fires and three great big ones. Bella liked watching fathers' joke with their children, and lovers leaning shoulder-to-shoulder against one another as they wound down from another hard day.

Erik noticed that she was watching the world around them, and interrupted the trivial conversation he was keeping with Tsifia to wrap an arm about her shoulders and tug her close. Not as close as other lovers' around them. Not so close that she would feel confined. Even lying together on their specialized cot that Erik had built himself, Erik never held her too tight. Never completely wrapped her in an embrace. He never tried to pull her against him, or kiss her. The most he ever did was accidentally tangle his fingers in her hair while caressing it gently.

She was _not_ stupid enough to push for more. Not so much because she didn't feel ready for at least _a little_ more between them; but because Erik was far too paranoid about her well being to believe he'd ever _let_ her try to do more. Yes, he had promised that when she got better that they could have a wedding night if she still wanted one when the time came. But that had been before an infection had nearly killed her. Before he'd become so concerned that she would be lucky if her own husband kissed her mouth for the first time within the next _year._

And she wasn't quite ready for much more, anyways. She understood that about herself. Now that she was getting better and had thought multiple times Erik was looking at her in an all-too familiar way that normally frightened her when any other man did it. In spite of the thrill Erik's gaze gave her … it chilled her, too. Just enough so that she knew she wouldn't try for anything more than they already shared until they were both feeling better about such adventures.

Whenever that might be.

"Should we go back now?" Erik murmured against her temple, resting his lips against her forehead through her hair without _quite_ kissing the spot. Somehow the ways Erik's mouth or hands would touch her felt like so much more – and yet less – than kisses and caresses. His lips lingered too long to be considered kisses. His hands stayed carefully still too long to be considered caresses. "We've been out here for three hours. It's going to be chilly in another half hour."

He was right. She glanced up at the darkening sky, seeing that twilight had fallen behind the scrim of rain clouds. The darkness would bring the cold. He was already giving into a great deal of stress allowing her to sit out in the damp air for so long.

"Yes." she agreed, leaning forward and letting him give her a supportive not-quite push to her back as she straightened up. Then he stood and placed the very tips of his fingers against the very small of her back. Guiding her without truly touching her. Tsifia bid them goodnight, and Bella kissed her grandmothers' cheek before turning to lean into Erik as if exhausted.

She wasn't. She just wanted to be close to him.

"Have you worked at any of your exercises today?" Erik asked her, referring to the reading and writing he assigned like a school teacher every morning. Today he'd told her to transcribe a book he'd recently acquired, and said he wanted to know what it said before they went to bed. Bella had been able to copy the letters well enough, but Erik had apparently forgotten the words were in French rather than Spanish. She was still barely learning French, so she didn't understand more than a word or two.

"Yes." she sighed. "What is it?"

"You can't tell me?" he chuckled.

"No." Bella scowled. "How could I? It's in _French_, Erik."

He gave a low French utterance that could only have been some expletive or other. Bella burst into an immediately stifled giggle.

"It's a scandalous story." he explained. "Written last century, I believe. It tells about some terrible games a few high-born aristocrats play with the bodies and hearts of the people around them. It's a tragedy, and the real antagonist gets her terribly inadequate comeuppance in the end."

Bella lifted her eyebrows.

"Will you read it to me? Translate it, I mean?"

Erik shrugged indifferently.

"If you like, certainly."

They changed separately, just as Arabella had once imagined and dreaded when he first brought up the very fantasy of them being together in their future. It had not been a real proposal; but he'd mentioned wanting to be with her. Arabella had thought about what that would be like. How with her terrible past Erik would feel so resentful of having a wife who asked him to leave every time she got changed, or who had to turn away whenever _he_ was even remotely undressed. Although it wasn't quite that serious a case of modesty … being so ill that Erik had needed to help clean her body for days on end had not made her feel any more secure in being even half undressed – or caressed in such a state – by her own husband.

At least they didn't have to actually leave the _tsera_ to get such privacy. Erik had hung a heavy tapestry near one corner of the tent, and placed a small oil lamp on a stool back there so no one had to change in the dark. The tapestry was thick enough so that no one on the other side could be taunted even by a silhouette.

Erik had not been able to argue with Arabella when he saw she had left the tent to help her grandmother with a few minor tasks. Certainly he had quickly finished up his performance to make certain she would be all right; but when he was ready to insist she return to their tent and back to bed, he simply hadn't been able to do it. Not with the half-angry, half-desperate look in her eyes. He knew he was being too over-protective. He knew she would have to start moving about again lest she lose all the beautiful strength in her limbs. But he hadn't wanted her to over strain herself too soon.

She had died in his arms. He knew that she did not believe that … but Arabella had stopped breathing. Her heart had stopped beating. He knew, because he'd held her tightly against him. He'd pressed his ear to her breast and held his own breath to listen for it. There had been no sign of life.

He would be damned before letting her risk too much too soon!

When Erik was in his night clothes and Bella settled comfortably against him on the cot, Erik carefully tucked a blanket around her, and gently guided her head to his shoulder while he read about a terrible libertine Vicomte and his ex-lover, another aristocrat, who scheme and plot with - and against - each other to ruin the lives of people around them. Bella so loved listening to Erik read, and having him so safely close often made her drowsy enough to fall asleep with the rumbling of his chest reverberating against her cheek and ear. To him it was the happiest time of his day. Feeling a young beautiful woman growing trustingly limp against him.

_"When I came out into society I was 15." _Erik read. "_I already knew that the role I was condemned to, namely to keep quiet and do what I was told, gave me the perfect opportunity to listen and observe. Not to what people told me, which naturally was of no interest to me, but whatever it was they were trying to hide. I practiced detachment. I learned to look cheerful while under the table I stuck a fork into the back of my hand. I became a virtuoso of deceit. I consulted the strictest moralists to learn how to appear, philosophers to find out what to think, and novelists to see what I could get away with, and in the end it all came down to one one wonderfully simple principle: Live or die."_

He paused, chuckling and making Arabella's eyes flutter open. Her head shifted against him so she could peer up at him, and her hair grazed across the slight aperture of his night shirt. The sensation made Erik shudder slightly in reaction, and his hand stilled momentarily in her hair.

"What is it?" she demanded. "What's so funny? The woman is a conniving demon!"

"Yes, but she has a point." Erik replied, chuckling again; grateful for the distraction from the tiny sensation of her hair. "Listen. This woman knows that she must appear a certain way, but she does not like what life has allotted her. So she decides to find out exactly how to appear to be what society wants, while being exactly who _she_ wishes to be, otherwise. We could learn a thing or two, even if she is a hardhearted b-"

He stopped before he could curse, and blushed slightly.

"...bird." he finally finished weakly, making Arabella giggle. When she laughed, her entire body quivered against him. "She knows how to survive; even at the expense of others."

Bella lifted up onto one elbow, leaning over him enough that he was intensely aware of her curves lightly brushing the scrawny lines of his own body. She wasn't leaning on him at all now, but she was just so … she couldn't hold herself entirely away when it was clear that she intended to drop back down onto his shoulder again.

Erik deplored his body. He was hideous enough as it was, and as of late he'd been growing some truly hideous pimples. His face had them the worst, because the mask that covered it most of the day was a perfect breeding ground for the aggravating little pustules. Now here he was lying next to his stunning young wife, and his body had to behave so _beastly!_

It was not as if he did not understand his physical reactions to her. What annoyed him the most was how easily and randomly his body would react to stimuli. The most inconvenient time was here in their bed, when she was so close and all he wanted to do was reach out and pull her close against him. To touch her. To-

He broke that thought off viciously, shifting uncomfortably and trying to nonchalantly re-arrange the blankets on them to hide his as-yet slight condition. There had been plenty of books in his mothers home – some of which Madeleine had probably been completely unaware in his fathers' old study. Books about men, women, boys, girls, and how they all should properly conduct themselves in life. Erik read passage after passage about how the right thing to do when seized by the devils' desires was to lie on a cold floor or take a cold bath. A gentleman never bothered his wife – _always_ his wife, _never_ another woman if he was a true gentleman – unless he was trying to conceive an heir with her. There were very specific ways to go about doing that, too. And if one was not trying to have a child, a man should not bother his wife _at all._ The book claimed that women despised sexual intercourse anyways, so there was no need to be a sinful beast and ask such a thing of her unless she was trying to get with child.

Certainly the books condemned self-gratification. It was a sinful waste, and the book claimed that too much of that led to madness and insanity.

Erik wondered how it was the entire world wasn't insane. He lived among the Romany now, and none of them were ever shy about their sexuality. Men and women were quite bold in their public displays of affection. They even had sexual encounters out in the comparative open, since privacy was such a hard thing to come by in a gypsy camp. To Erik it looked as if both parties tended to enjoy the acts greatly, and they _certainly_ didn't abide by the strict rules and conditions of intercourse he'd read about.

But his sweet gypsy princes … she had endured so much. And she was trapped with a hideous creature for a husband. He could not imagine she would ever be able to overcome the traumas of her youth even if she decided to. He knew she would be a good wife who did as was asked of her … but he was much too ashamed of himself to _ever_ dare ask. He had no intentions of ever asking her such a favor … and he certainly wouldn't want to ask such a thing of her this soon after her liberation from her fathers' tyranny.

"Erik?"

He blinked and looked down into Arabella's beautiful caramel irises. He realized he'd been distracted from whatever she had been saying.

"I'm sorry." he apologized, clearing his throat uneasily. "The day has just caught up with me. What were you saying, _ma belle_?"

Frowning, Bella reached up and lightly brushed her fingers down the side of his face, avoiding the sores caused by chafed pimples. Erik's eyes fluttered closed and his body clenched slightly at the touch. Always it clenched; partly still afraid of oncoming pain, but also barely able to restrain its' relief and joy. He had never thought he would experience such a kind caress... such a loving touch. Yet Bella gave these touches very freely, and he still could not convince himself that it was real!

Other parts of his stubbornly disgusting body twitched in jealousy that his face was the part being caressed.

"Never mind, _miri kom_." she sighed. "Let's put the book aside and we'll read more tomorrow. You really _do_ look exhausted."

"Exhausted, well-rested, it doesn't really matter." Erik muttered as he obediently put a leaf in the book to hold their page, and placed it aside before blowing out the small oil lamp at their bedside. Sighing heavily he settled into a more comfortably lying-down position and waited for Bella to get comfortable against him. He wrapped one arm carefully around her, his thumb and forefinger drawing circles on her upper arm. "I will never look better from one mood to the next."

"Shhh." Bella soothed. She was not scolding him. If she scolded him for his self-debasement, she would never get any rest. "Get some rest, Erik. Tomorrow, things will be better."

Slowly, he kissed the crown of her head, breathing deeply to take in the smell of wood smoke that had infused her hair.

"Yes." he agreed. "We have _that_ to look forward to."

Tonight, at least, his unexpected and unwelcome discomfort was not extreme. He detested himself every time his body refused to calm down. When he woke in the middle of the night or first thing in the morning and felt so desperate for relief that he'd either unwillingly and unconsciously embarrassed himself, or he had to explain that he was going "into the trees" to relieve himself when the type of relief he sought was entirely different than what Bella surely suspected.

Bella was no pure innocent that did not understand the way men's bodies worked. But he still couldn't bring himself to admit to her he was so subhuman that he couldn't completely control himself around her. She knew already that he'd experienced some desire for her … an intellectual desire that he hoped she had not realized was more and more violently physical with every day they lived under the same canvas roof. After all she had endured … she deserved a reprieve from such despicable desire.


	2. Chapter 2

**N/A: I hope you all liked Chapter One. I still intend to spread the rest of the chapters out quite a bit. But considering I got no reviews yet for Chapter One, I was wondering if it was because my lovely readers might need more stuff to give feedback on? I thrive on reviews guys, you all know this. LOL. Here's hoping that even if this isn't an incentive to give some, you at least find it a nice read to stave off quarantine boredom!**

**Chapter Two: Disharmony**

Erik was trembling violently as the sounds of applause slowly faded and the massive crowd in front of him began to disperse. People were still offering money; throwing it onto the stage at his feet. The sun overhead was small and white, and although it was very hot out for that time of year, Erik felt cold right down into the very center of his bones.

He _hated_ this. _Hated_ the feeling that he had absolutely no choice but to remove his mask at the end of every performance. He wished he could truly rip every single person that gawked at his corpse-like visage into tiny little pieces of viscera. But how was he ever supposed to refuse such a massive crowd? They would surely mob him! He had found out the hard way – while still in his cage, and then before he'd become such a popular attraction in their little camp – that refusing to give the audience what they wanted could end in nothing but pain and further degradation.

Bella did not like him unmasking himself, either. Only the previous night, she had admitted wishing that his face was a secret only _she_ knew. She liked the idea of being the only one privy to such a very special trust and secret. Having to share him with the crowd in that way made her feel a little nauseous. She had kept trying to insist that if Erik did not want to take off his mask, there was no longer a single member of the tribe who would _force_ him to do so. He was a married man, a _free_ man of the tribe. He owed no one anything anymore - except to help pitch into the fortune of the tribe as a whole the way _they all_ did.

"I will be performing again in one half hour!" he announced, hoping some would come back or spread this news to other potential paying customers. It was only as he slipped the mask back over his face that he realized Arabella was standing nearby. She'd been towards the front of the crowd the entire time, no doubt, but he simply hadn't been paying a great deal of attention. A juvenile tree – certainly ten or thirteen years old but neither enormous nor a sapling - had blocked her mostly from view. _Now_ he saw her there; wearing some very familiar canary yellow fabric from head to ankle. As was the case with many gypsies, Bella was barefoot in fair weather because shoes were so expensive. But, unlike how she dressed when not performing, her yellow vest was cut low and made a little too tight. It allowed her body to be shown off just a little more than usual without being scandalous or _too_ inviting. A _dicklo_ covered the top of her head and was tied beneath her hair in back.

She was wearing a performance dress embroidered in bright red flowers and dark green vines. She had been working on it since the fever had broken – from time to time, at least. It was quite good, and Erik realized now that she could easily have been a seamstress in a city. Perhaps not a highly paid one, but she was skilled just enough to show promise. For the briefest of seconds he imagined her sitting in the back of a shop working on some fine ladies' ballgown for the first party of the social season, and _almost_ smiled.

Instead he scowled. In the days since Arabella had started helping her grandmother for part of every day, they had not once spoken of her returning to her usual work.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, his voice low and half-furious. He reminded himself not to snap at her. He was still riled up from having to show his face to that hateful crowd. Bella had no doubt been there to witness his terrible humiliation, and as upset as that made him he could not take out his frustration on her because of a more mundane annoyance. Color suffused his face, and he was glad he again wore the mask.

Bella stepped up to the edge of the stage, her fingertips tracing the veins in the wood.

"I want to dance." she told him simply, keeping her eyes demurely lowered.

He did not _want_ her to dance. It felt much too soon after her injury and infection. He _wanted_ her to remain unoccupied with such strain for the rest of her life! He didn't want her to perform anymore as _he_ was forced to do. For her to … _whore_ herself out in the way that she'd had to since childhood.

He would _**never**_ think of Bella as such a horrible wretched creature. But the way men looked at her when she danced... he'd often felt as if they were assaulting her with their eyes. It seemed like too much of a temptation, as if her beauty and exotic skills were drawing men in and offering more than they should _ever_ be allowed to have. It was not her fault for being so beautiful. Not her fault that even her _husband_ had to force himself to look away just to keep himself under control.

"You are not ready for that." Erik managed quietly, forcing his voice into tranquility and confidence without sounding overbearing or forbidding. He tried to sound caring and concerned.

"We can dance something simple." Bella offered. "I will not Flamenco at all … just a traditional gypsy dance. Some footwork and skirt waving. Please?"

Bella finally looked up at him and Erik felt gut-punched. She had such stunningly beautiful eyes. So innocent but so alluring and guileless ... Those eyes were absolutely _pleading_. His wife was bored senseless; restless because she did not use up half the energy she was used to expelling every day before.

Why did he feel he had to always give into her? He always had to give Arabella everything she wanted in spite of his own feelings. _He_ could never ask for anything; could never get what _he_ wanted. He would never even dare _try_! But every day he offered Bella more and more concessions. _**Why**_?

"A slow dance..." he echoed carefully. "Just _one_ dance today?"

The way her eyes lit up with hope put pressure on the tightness already in his gut.

"I'll accept just one slower dance." she acknowledged. "Please, Erik? You have been calling to me with your music every single day! I can't ignore it anymore!"

Erik scoffed scornfully. Why did she act as if he were a siren with his music? People sometimes reacted strongly to his singing or playing. Bella _very_ strongly, like his mother. But he was not attempting to do anything when he performed – unless he wanted to vent his rage to the audience after unmasking himself. That was just venting, though. It had nothing at all to do with what he was trying to make the audience feel. He just … let his rage show. He did not understand her overactive imagination insisting that he regularly drew her closer and closer with his compositions - not _even_ just his own compositions. Sometimes she said his performance of other people's more popular music drew her in or made her feel a certain way.

"All right." he conceded. As long as she kept to her word and danced carefully without harming herself, he would give in. Especially since part of him missed watching her dance just as much as she missed it. "_One_ dance."

As he prepared for the performance – changing from magicians robes and full head mask into something that would make playing his violin a bit easier – he considered the simply vicious option of punishing her for pushing so hard. If she wanted to dance, he could easily play music that would make her move too much. He could play until her body ached and begged for surcease. But that truly _would_ be _cruel_. Instead he would watch very carefully to make certain that she didn't strain herself. At the first sign of pain, he would end the performance whether the audience liked it or not!

She was out of practice. But even stiff and mechanical, Bella still managed to dance beautifully for such a simple song. For such simple movements. Her feet played across the stage as lightly as a feather, and made up for any other shortcomings. She showed no signs of pain until it was over, and then she just pressed the tips of her fingers into a spot under her right breast as if she'd gotten an annoying cramp. It was slight discomfort on her face – _not_ pain. It was not too worrisome.

Afterwards, when the coins were still flying through the air at their feet, Arabella smiled and flung her arms about Erik. He was so stunned she would do this in public that he nearly stumbled with the violin and bow held out to the side in one hand. He did not embrace her back, but withstood the happiness she exuded until it was over. He did not know how to handle public displays of affection. He barely knew how to handle _private_ ones.

"Let's stop for the day." she encouraged as he stared down at her in a stunned silence that made him feel as if his vocal chords had become paralyzed. When Bella hugged, she did not just put an arm around his shoulder and give a brief harmless squeeze. She tended to hug with nearly her entire body, and the way he reacted never made him feel comfortable. Especially in public. "I feel like I haven't bathed at all since the wedding. Let's go into the woods. We'll find the river and bathe. I'll get a little laundry done."

Of course Bella wouldn't want to go in the dark. She could withstand the dark bravely, but was always afraid of it. This had only gotten worse after Adnah had attacked her in spite of the attack occurring during the day. Now she was even leery of the forest, and never wanted to go out there on her own. Her injury wouldn't have let her travel long distances recently; but before the Spanish festival when she'd found out about the baby, she had often gone into the woods with a group of other women to bathe and wash laundry.

Erik did not want to tell her to go alone, knowing how afraid she was even in daylight. He was so protective of her, he doubted he could have let her go alone even if she was absolutely _confident_ in her own safety. But he wouldn't try to find another woman to go with her when she'd asked _him_ in particular. Obviously Bella was seeking some kind of private time with him that he found unnecessary and questionable. Why him, after all she'd endured? How could she trust a man to be alone with her when she was undressed and bathing? She would be so vulnerable!

As if her hug hadn't been enough, the thought of standing close by and acting as guard while she bathed naked in the deep river he knew to be nearby put his entire body into near paroxysms of frustrated agony. How could he deal with being so close to the wife he absolutely adored in such a state without giving into the demon inside him? How could he tame it before she noticed?

"I owe the audience at least two more performances. They were already announced." Erik hedged slowly. "But I will perform them early enough that we can go to the river and return by twilight's end. All right?"

Like the dutiful wife who tried desperately not to push him for fear of finding out the monster he really could be, Bella agreed. Erik was plagued with frustration and guilt all day, and things were only made worse by their time at the river. On the walk she asked him about what he'd wanted to be in the _gaje_ world, before choosing the Romany way of existence. He didn't point out how he hadn't exactly _chosen_ the gypsy way. That it had chosen him and taken him by force; and he'd only gone along because of her. Instead he explained how he had once dreamed of being an architect.

"Foolish, really." he'd muttered angrily. "I was a stupid little boy who thought the world would actually _let_ him build beautiful things."

"Why can't you be an architect?" Bella demanded, a line forming between her brows in defiant consternation. "If you want to make buildings, Erik, there is nothing to stop you!"

"God, I love your naive optimism." he shook his head with a heavy sigh. "There isn't a man alive on this Earth who would accept a masked man on his building site, Bella. No contracts, no jobs. Not for a freak like me."

"But that's ridiculous! I bet you would be brilliant, just like you are at everything else!"

Erik chose not to argue. Thinking about his spoiled dreams and his misled youth only enraged him further. Instead he turned his back to the river as she began to undress, touching the knife at his hip, only one of the weapons he'd brought for protection. He also held a small hatchet loosely down at his other side. Although he doubted it would be terribly practical, it _was_ a weapon. Besides, he could use it to chop firewood while she bathed.

When Arabella was done and stood drenched in a simple dress that was soaking in the river water – for she'd brought nothing to dry off in – Erik quickly excused _himself_ to go bathe and wash clothes that hadn't been laundered in over a month. The brief sight of her dress clinging to her had added fuel to an inner fire he wished would just remain extinguished.

They'd returned to camp afterwards, both of them keeping their eyes straight ahead to avoid admitting their clothes had gotten quite clingy or transparent. Arabella went to Tsifia's tent to see how the stew the two women had made together that morning was coming along. It was made out of the leftover meat from a deer one of the Rom men had killed two days before.

Erik spent a few precious minutes alone in the _tsera_, fighting the urge to take care of his disgusting body's demands, and instead looked over the score to an operetta he'd begun composing since his wedding day that hadn't gotten much added to it since Bella's miscarriage. Then he went, as he did every night as of late, to join the women.

"... arrogant." Tsifia was telling Bella. "I know you're both young, Bella, but he can be just a bit insufferable. He's forgetting respect for his elders, ignoring those around him – including you – if they do not fit into what he wants to see, know, or do! Remind that boy that you are his _wife_.. Not his _child_. Not his _sister_-"

"_Bunica_!" Bella hissed, seeing Erik arrive over her grandmothers' shoulder. Tsifia paused, looking over at Erik and nodding to invite him closer.

"Come and eat, Erik." she invited, as if she had not just been absolutely insulting him.

_**I**__ am the one bringing all the customers to the camp!_ Erik thought with the typical umbrage of all adolescent boys. _Without me they would be where they were before! Practically starving to death with a scoundrel – two scoundrels! - in their midst! I have helped patch tsera's__,__ fixed wagons, brought back food that no one else could have acquired without getting caught... And she calls _me_ ungrateful and arrogant!?_

"No." Erik decided coolly. "I'm actually quite tired. I think I will go to bed early."

He nodded briefly to Tsifia, then bowed more deeply to poor Bella. She was so flustered. He wondered if she were embarrassed, frightened, or both.

_She _can't_ be afraid of _me_! What have_ I**ever**_ done to her?_

He turned and stalked back to their tent, fully aware that Bella was following close behind. She did not speak, however, until they were alone in the relative privacy of their own canvas walls.

"Erik!" she pleaded quietly. "Erik, don't be angry!"

He could not take it. He rounded on her so quickly that in spite of the feet separating them, she back-pedaled and almost lost her balance. She caught herself before falling back out through the door flap rippling behind her. Erik made no violent move towards her. He let her catch herself and talked right over her fear.

"Don't be angry at _what_, Bella?" he demanded. "That we live in this squalid little tent? That I am a _homeless __**beggar**_? That I do everything – _**everything**_ – I can to make you happy and make peace with your people … and yet everyone still _**hates**_ me?"

"That is not true!" Bella objected. "We don't hate you!"

Erik took in a slow deep breath in order to gain some semblance of control over himself.

"No, Bella, _you_ do not hate me." he acknowledged. "God knows _why_, but _you_ _**love**_ me. As for the rest of them, I am always going to be the unwanted outsider! It doesn't matter where I go or what I try to do! I am still stuck in this … this ..."

He could not find the right words to express his desperate hatred of his living situation.

"I cannot provide properly for you!" he finally managed to shift his focus slightly. "I should have a proper job and a proper house. Some place with real walls and locks, glass windows and just a bit of _privacy_! Instead I am watched day and night. By the others, by you... I am never alone except when I go into the woods to relieve myself! I piss and shit in the woods like an animal; and I lie in my cot at night while just outside other people rut like _animals_ out in the open!"

"What are you talking about?" Bella demanded. "Yasmina and Benjamin? I … all right. I agree. Perhaps they should show a little more restraint for a couple that has been married for eight years. But what else are they to _do_, Erik? They do their best to find shadows! They live with three children! They just want a little privacy, too!"

"They can hardly expect to have privacy just outside of _our_ home!" Erik burst out."As you said, they already _have_ three children! How many children can they possibly _**want**_ in this poverty? What they do is pure animal lust and nothing a dutiful wife and husband ought to be doing!"

Erik was breathing heavily now, feeling on the verge of tears. The only reason that he berated the absent Benjamin and Yasmina was because they shared something he knew he could never really have. He never expected Bella to lie with him in bed. To share passion or make children. Honestly the thought of having children that would depend on him was utterly terrifying! It was not that his wife would deny him … she would no doubt be a very dutiful and accepting wife.

But how could he put her through his perversions? After all she'd been through!?

These were thoughts he could not get out of his mind. No matter how hard he tried.

As he fought to catch his breath, he realized that Arabella was staring at him blankly in shock. Somehow, his ranting had lost her. She did not understand what he'd just said.

"Erik..." she finally began, trying to put her thoughts in order. "Whether they are being rude by bringing us into their excursions by choosing _our tsera_ to make love behind … they are only expressing love for each other."

"There are _other_ ways to express _love_." Erik waved vaguely to where he kept all his music. "The music I have written for you when we perform, that is one way. How you dance for me sometimes... Perhaps not everyone can be a musician, but everyone has talents that could lend to _that_. Even taking special care when laundering a favorite shirt! They don't need to be such beasts and … and _fornicate_ outside of a marriage's proper duty!"

Bella shook her head, again looking confused, and wounded.

_Oh, what have I said __**now**__?_

"You think love making is only for the creation of children?" she whispered. "Erik … you … you don't _want_ children."

Erik froze for a moment, stumbling over the fact that _this_ was what stung her so badly. He'd known Arabella had not wanted to lose her daughter, but he had thought she was willing to accept his fear of having a child of his own. Willing to live with just the two of them. Why had she said nothing before _now_?

"We are too young to worry about such things." he offered, trying to hedge around the issue; as he always did. "I realize that to your people we are adults and-"

"-Erik, to _my_ people we can't even call one another husband and wife yet!" Bella interrupted. "Not officially! We would live in _your_ parents _tsera_ until our first child was born if you were Romany. I know you are not, and I understand you don't want children just now... but … but we..."

Erik balled his hands into fists at his sides until he realized Arabella had noticed and was tense with fear. He forced his fingers to uncurl, and shook his wrists to loosen them further. But the wound she'd dealt him still brought more anger than he'd ever felt towards her before.

"I am sorry I am not the Rom you want." he spat.

Bella shook her head wildly, holding her hands out in an attempt to bring peace.

"No, Erik, I don't mean _that_!" she pleaded. "I just … I … I didn't realize you _felt_ that way about... about _that_. Even with what _dadrus_ did to me... I don't think that making love is _wrong_. It's not just for … for procreation."

It was such a fancy word for her, but it was one he'd had to use in their recent lessons. It still made them both blush and shift uncomfortably.

"I do not know what you expect from me!" Bella insisted.

Erik felt as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs. His entire body sagged, and slowly, helplessly, he finally removed his silk mask and put it gently aside. According to their agreement upon the first day of their marriage, he should have taken it off instantly upon entering the tent.

"Bella... I do not expect _anything_ of you." he told her quietly, as tenderly as he could. "That I can call you my wife is more than I ever expected to have. All I ask is that you are faithful. Or at least … at least tell me beforehand if you ever want to betray me."

Her entire body jerked, and again Erik knew he'd said the entirely wrong thing. He was always saying the wrong thing. How? He was only being honest! Not accusing her of anything, or insinuating her to be any particular way!

"What about _my_ expectations?" she finally asked him heatedly, her voice low and urgent.

Automatically, Erik stepped closer to her; but his steps felt heavy. Like he was moving up river against a white-water current.

"What is it you want?" he asked, always feeling obliged to give her anything she wanted to the best of his ability. He had promised to be a good husband for her, and he always tried to be. But every day it felt like more and more of a burden. How was he _ever_ going to make her happy?

Arabella was quiet for so long that he felt his agitation rise again. He felt like shouting at her. Like threatening to withhold whatever she requested if she didn't hurry up and tell him. But when he thought that, his own mothers' voice doing _exactly_ that rang in his head, and he knew he could not do that to Bella.

"Tell me,_ ma belle_..." he encouraged in a much gentler voice than he'd managed since her performance that morning.

She bit on her lower lip. He'd noticed her doing that a great deal more often as of late. If she didn't stop, she would bite her lip clean off soon enough.

"_Someday – _not now but_ someday -_ I want a complete marriage." she whispered.

Erik flinched, and he found himself unable to look at her anymore. He turned his face, then his entire body, away. It was easier to think when he didn't look into her face... her beautiful eyes.

She wanted a real marriage. She wanted to consummate their marriage and produce children. But how could he _do_ that? He was a homeless street performer. A child of theirs would have no country. No house to call home. They would live at greater risk than most dirt-poor _gaje_ ever could. The road was very hard on little ones. She could miscarry a dozen times, lose more babies in childbirth or in infancy. How could he risk doing that to _both_ of them? How could he have any pride raising a child that survived when he couldn't provide them with what they _deserved_?

Bella was waiting, and Erik forced himself to nod.

"Maybe later... when we are older. When you are completely better." he offered. A _maybe_ was not a committed promise. A 'maybe' was safe.

Again, he knew he had said the wrong thing. Bella's body slumped, and she nodded. Not in agreement, but … surrender. He watched helplessly as she turned away and sat on the edge of their cot. Her head bent and she put her face miserably into her hands.

"Do you regret choosing me?" she asked through her fingers. He could see her shoulders were quivering, and _instantly_ he was at her side on his knees. He would have reached out to comfort her, but was afraid touching her would only upset her more. Her voice was so frail and broken, he wondered if she was finally feeling the full extent of her injury for the first time since actually harming herself. But that wasn't a fair thought at all, and he knew it. This was not a physical exhaustion or pain. Not even remotely.

"No!" he assured. "_Never, ma belle. __**Never**_!" He sighed heavily. "I just... I barely know who I am now. I was not raised in a gypsy camp. I did not ask to be taken captive by your people. I know many of them have tried very hard to get along with me and make me feel welcome. I know _you __**love**_ me. But I still feel lost here. I feel like a _whore_ selling myself to the crowds every day. Exposing what I hate most about myself."

She flinched at the word 'whore', but he had known she would. For years her father had called her that horrible thing. It was a sensitive word. But he'd been unable to think of a better one to express his frustration.

"I fell into being a performer here. I love playing the violin and singing for you. But now I don't feel comfortable when you dance with me anymore. I'm too on edge about you re-injuring yourself. Or getting ill again. I am so frustrated all of the time, and barely know why. I barely know _who I am, ma belle_. Can you understand that? I … I feel like I need to spend time on my own. To discover who I am away from my mother. Away from this … this _freak show_ I have been forced into being part of. If I could just find myself … maybe I could do better by you. I could give you all the things you want and need. I could _make peace_ with everything."

Bella looked at him, and he recoiled slightly to find tears were smeared all over her cheeks.

"On your own?" she echoed in bewilderment. "What do you mean? Where would you go? For how long?"

Erik finally reached up and brushed his thumbs along her cheeks and under her eyes. When that failed to dry her skin, he reached for a discarded _dicklo_ and mopped at her face as gently as he could.

"I don't know." he admitted. "I couldn't return to France. I can't stay in Spain or go with the tribe to Portugal. Too many people know of The Living Corpse there now. My reputation is too vast. I … I think I'd have to go to..." He thought seriously. "Maybe I would go to Italy. I could visit the great ancient buildings there. See the beauty of them for myself as I never thought I could. Maybe while I'm traveling I can figure this all out."

He could pick pockets to survive, and of course perform. There was no use wasting his talents as a performer. But without traveling as part of an entire group, he could save what money he earned instead of sharing it. That would help him get by much better.

"But I can't leave _bunica_, Erik." Bella was almost whining in despair. "I know she says she is strong and doesn't need me. I know that she would _survive_ if I left. But we're the only blood family either of us has left!"

"I know." Erik assured gently. This time, he felt absolutely no anger towards her honesty in the least. He admired Tsifia greatly. He fully understood Bella's connection to her grandmother and was often jealous of it. "I do not ask you to join me. Truly, Bella... taking you with me would only hold me back."

She opened her mouth to object, more pain in her eyes, but he shook his head.

"Arabella..." he insisted gently. "I want you to stay with Tsifia while I am gone. I can leave in the morning so that no one else has to keep suffering. I tried to keep my stupid black moods from hurting anyone, but it's clear I've failed miserably. I'm failing _you_, Bella. And I can't keep doing that. Better to go now, alone, and find what I need to."

He could no longer keep up with the tears running down her cheeks, and he pulled her into his arms for the first time in weeks. It was the first real embrace he'd given her, and he did not flinch when she clung to him in return. He brushed his malformed lips across her hair, stroked the long dark tresses, and rocked her.

"Keep this tent for yourself." he whispered. "Or live with Tsifia, if that makes you happier. Be your own independent self, too. Find who _you_ are. _Without_ my influence or that of any other overbearing jackass of a man. Just give me time, Bella. Please... and know that I'm_ not __**leaving**_you. You're my wife. I'm your husband. I will remain true to that. And I know how to find you when I'm ready."

"H-how long … do you think?" Bella whimpered.

She was weakening. He could feel her muscles shuddering and going limp. Erik quickly shifted them so he lie on the cot holding her against him. For once, his body was not tortured by having hers against it.

"I don't know." he breathed honestly. "I don't know, Bella... But I will come back to you. I swear _on my life_ that I will come back to you. No matter what my answer about a complete marriage orchildren or anything else is. I'm coming back. Because I _have_ you to come back to. ...If you will still have me by then."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Dolore

"Bella!"

Arabella turned from the stew she was stirring outside the _tsera_ and hurried in to find her grandmother lying at a complete angle across the double-wide cot Erik had left behind when he left to find himself. Tsifia's hair was much more gray and white than it had been back then. More lines were etched deeply into her face, and just now it was twisted in agony and her skin was soaked in sweat. Bella had never seen anyone age so quickly. Only a few years ago, Tsifia could practically have passed for Arabella's mother.

"What are you doing, _bunica_?" Arabella demanded. "You shouldn't be getting up."

"I have work to do!" Tsifia announced. "Get me my _dicklo_. And my gray dress with the yellow embroidery."

"_Bunica_, you aren't well enough to work." Bella stated soothingly, trying to straighten out her grandmothers' body so it lie straight on only one half of the cot. Bella had been sharing the bed with her grandmother for a long time. "Please, just lie back down nicely. I'll get you something for the pain."

For over a year, Tsifia had been suffering strange moods and memory problems, intensifying headaches and sudden loss of bodily functions. It had started slowly, but it did not take long to figure out there was something terribly wrong with her grandmother. It was a terrifying thing to watch, not knowing exactly _what_ was wrong with her. As of late, Tsifia could barely leave the cot to take care of her body's needs when she was lucid … and she was barely ever _really_ lucid. Even times when she might have been able to think straight were marred by the enormous amounts of pain her head was constantly in. No concoction Bella or anyone else could come up with eased it by much; and they couldn't afford a doctor. Most doctors wouldn't even come to help a gypsy...

"I want whiskey!" her grandmother demanded.

Tsifia had never drunk much alcohol before that Arabella knew of. This was an almost entirely new request.

"I'll see what I can manage." she promised. "Close your eyes, Bunica. Get some rest."

She stroked Tsifia's hair out of her sweaty face until the old woman's eyes dropped shut in exhaustion. Then she stood up, knowing her grandmother would not be out long. The continuous low moans of agony were a recognized signal of that.

Arabella had long since gotten rid of the _tsera_ that she and Erik had shared in the beginning of their marriage. After about fourteen months of living on her own, another couple from the tribe had finally given birth to their first child, and Arabella had gifted them the small abode in order to help the girl escape her overbearing mother-in-law.

That was one of the things Arabella had been trying to explain to Erik the night before he left. In her culture, a married gypsy couple always lived with the groom's parents for roughly the first year. Until they bore their first child, they were never considered officially husband and wife. She was sure that such a consideration was dropped after a long time of simply being unable to bare a healthy child – as Tsifia and her husband had once suffered such a fate before the birth of their only daughter. But … Bella and Erik had been married for mere weeks. Not even really _months_.

She hadn't been trying to insult his gaje background at all. But she'd seen he was already too upset to try and speak sensibly to him.

Giving away the tent had also also saved the new parents money, since a _tsera_ was no cheap thing, and the tribe had fallen on harder times since Erik's departure. It helped Bella feel helpful in a community where her role had grown increasingly tenuous, even as she finally realized it was possible to be more-or-less embraced by her tribe. She danced sometimes, but it felt as if that part of her life were well over and done with.

It had ended almost entirely on the day her husband had walked away to find himself. Dancing to her own tambourine, castanets, or even the music of another tribe member … just wasn't the same. The joy, the muse, was gone.

Finding _herself_ had been a cruel joke. As a gypsy she had grown up in a secretive and practically isolated community, raised by a father who kept her as far from their practices and love as possible. Only once her father had been banished had she really understood it was _his_ fault that she was not raised by the tribe as a whole. _His_ fault that she was not embraced. By the time she'd come to this realization, though, she had already conceived a bastard of incest, married a _gaje mullo_, and even been abandoned by _him_. It did not encourage a good reputation. It was just funny how her greatest reason for feeling ostracized all her youth – her half-breed status – had absolutely nothing to do with the reasons her tribe looked down on her.

No one was outright cruel. But some people snubbed her. They did not help her as easily as they would help others. Even though Anton would speak to her of moving on and finding another tribe in the East so that she might find another husband, she would have been looked down on even _more_ for doing _that_. For breaking the vows that seemed to have been broken _on_ her. She also would have been sneered at for abandoning her own tribe.

There was no _room_ for growth and discovering who you really were when nothing in your life greatly changed. Instead of dancing, she started taking over her grandmothers' work. She made salves and poultices, elixirs and protective necklaces. Some of them were very real curatives, but most of them were only as real as a handful of slivers from The Cross sold in nearly every large city by greedy prophesying zealots.

She also read palms, tarot cards, and tea leaves. This was just as false as many items she sold; but sometimes she thought she was genuinely channeling a power her grandmother had always insisted she was born with. It didn't feel so devious when she spoke purely on intuition and could read the hands, clothes, and body language of those she took as customers.

When she wasn't running that small business, she took care of tribe children. Once her grandmother needed round-the-clock care, the only way Bella could survive and earn any kind of community food or money was to watch the toddlers and infants of her neighbors while they went out and did the hard work for the day. It could be trying, dealing with sometimes five or six little ones while also trying to care for her grandmother. But even the smallest of the toddlers dearly loved Tsifia and were often willing to help in what little ways they could. It lightened the burden, unless the children were ill as well. That happened often enough, considering how even benign contagions spread through playmates.

The only chance she'd had for any kind of change was the previous summer; when another Romany from another tribe - one hers had encountered at the meeting grounds - began to pay attention to her. He was a knife thrower in a much larger group that managed itself as a circus, and he seemed taken by her at once. He was older, rough, good-looking, and massively charming.

Dangerously so. Bella had been drawn in by him in spite of herself, but she'd never forgotten that she was a married woman who loved her husband very much in spite of his absence. She allowed a little playful flirtation with the man, and he'd taught her how to properly wield a blade; even how to throw one. But because she had not been terribly interested in doing anything _further_ with him, he'd easily said goodbye to her when the time came and never looked back. It had been the verge of a scandal, but because all of Arabella's interactions with the man had been entirely public, no one had a reason to start real rumors.

It had been incredibly difficult to let herself be drawn to him at all. The knife thrower – who's name had been Gustave – had reminded Arabella a great deal of Adnah. How Adnah had liked to chase _gaje_ skirts around, no doubt leaving bastards all over the European countryside. It hadn't been so offensive with Gustave, but she had still been on edge in spite of his appeal. She'd also convinced herself early on that although she might enjoy their flirtations, he probably had no interest in anything other than bedding her. Everything he did with her felt like a slow but inexorable seduction doomed to leave her ruined and again alone. Even if that wasn't true, and Gustave had wanted to genuinely marry her due to real affection … she couldn't get beyond the thought that he was just looking to use her. That he _couldn't_ really want _her_.

Arabella stepped only a few feet away from the tsera, looking around anxiously for a neighbor who she might ask to fetch her some strong alcohol to knock out some of Tsifia's pain. Luckily for her, Anton was passing by and saw her frantic eyes.

"How is she?" he asked, changing his course towards the main bonfires of the night and walking in her direction instead.

"Not good." Bella cleared the horrid lump that never seemed to entirely leave her throat as of late. "She's asking for whiskey."

Anton sighed, shaking his head.

"I'll see what I can find." he promised. "I wish we could afford some medicine."

"From the doctor in _this_ village?" Bella scoffed, referring to the nearest community where they had set up this time. "He'd quite _literally_ charge you a leg. Probably even a life – or several."

They had found out very quickly that the village they'd chosen to temporarily settle near was very hostile towards gypsies. They'd been forced to move further and further away twice to protect the community, although no one had chased them off completely. The village was small enough where the apparent boredom made them just curious enough about a gypsy fair to allow their proximity for a week or two. But Tsifia was getting worse, and Bella did not think that they _could_ move on with her in her condition. No matter how the tribe as a whole felt about Arabella, they would never leave Tsifia behind to die. They loved and respected her far too much. She had damn well earned their deference in her long life.

Bella was turning back to the _tsera_ when movement caught her eye over to the far left of the encampment. It was where the tribe had put their horses to graze, close to a very visible river where they could have all the water they wanted. An adolescent boy named Lash had been given the duty of keeping watch out for any intruders in the camp for a few hours in the evenings. He would be replaced later with either another adolescent who could climb in the trees like him, or one of the smaller men. This had become a practice sixth months prior, when six _gaje_ had sneaked into camp in the middle of the night to cause trouble. The law, of course, had been on the side of the boys, in spite of their attempt to drag a gypsy woman from her_ tsera_ to rape her. If the boys had not been so drunk, they might have even succeeded. As it was, the community had been awakened by their noise and the cries of the poor girl, and they'd been beaten quite badly as they were chased off. The tribe was extremely lucky that the lawmen who took the boys complaints had chalked it up to an even score where no one would be punished for any of their illegal actions.

"There's a man!" Lash cried out, even as Bella realized there was an odd shadow moving towards all the horses. "There's a man coming!"

"He's going for the horses!" another nearby man noted, running towards the intruding figure. He was followed swiftly but distantly by a handful of other men with knives and sticks in their hands.

Bella's hand went to her throat before the men even reached the shadow, because whoever was entering their camp had stepped into moonlight, and she couldn't see a speck of skin. The form was entirely black from head to toe, making him impossible to make out. But he was practically flanked by two docile horses following close behind without so much as a lead to guide them.

A man with two horses that were tame enough to follow him without guidance. Any man who owned two horses in their tribe was considered a very wealthy man. Bella did not suspect this could be an invasion of any kind, or else why wouldn't the man be approaching with two horses of his own?

Anton appeared from deeper in camp, holding a cask of cheap wine out to her as his eyes focused on the scene unfolding near the river. His muscles were bunched, and he was ready to run off to help the others if need be. As it was, he ought to be there to manage the situation. But his eyes were better in the dark than Bella's, and whatever he saw seemed to trouble him more than it outright alarmed him.

"Thank you." Bella managed, taking the small barrel in one arm and turning back to the _tsera_. She had other things to worry about beside a man with two horses walking calmly and confidently into their camp. He had not been sneaking by any means. And there were already a dozen men standing in his way. Whoever he was, Bella did not care. She needed to start giving her grandmother enough wine to knock her out for the evening.

"Bella, wait." Anton said a little sharply, and she looked at him with startled, raised eyebrows. He was still looking at the crowd near the river. "It looks like a man in a mask."

Arabella nearly dropped the wine, she whirled so fast to stare at the man with two horses. It was difficult to see him now that he was surrounded so thoroughly by worried gypsies on their guard. But no one was yelling. Not _really_ yelling, at least. Some voices sounded upset and irritated, angry even. But none sounded as if a fight were about to break out.

"Erik?" she gasped, a hand going to her chest. She strained her neck and raised onto her toes as if this would help her see any better.

Anton was quiet a long moment, then nodded sharply with a grunt of displeasure.

"Walks away for three years then just waltzes back here like its' his God-given right." he muttered. "You think those horses are for us? Or does he actually think they're going to win him _status_ with us after what he did?"

"He didn't _do_ anything." Bella protested, but weakly. She had been losing this battle of technicalities for over a year and a half. She didn't even really believe it herself anymore. "He just wanted to find himself. He _said_ he would come back, didn't he? I told you he did."

"Expect it to take three years?" Anton demanded, looking at her crossly. "We aren't deaf here, Bella. We've heard you cry yourself to sleep."

Bella felt heat suffuse her face. No one had ever been so blatant with her before. They'd been _worse_ in many ways … but not so upfront. Most preferred to color Erik as the freakish _mullo_ who'd swept through their camp like a raging demon and left poor Bella as his ruined victim. In spite of the whispers about her babies' true parentage – for people in the tribe _were_ smart enough to put together her condition with the earlier banishment of her father – some people still chose to believe it had been Erik that had seduced Bella and impregnated her with a child from Hell so inhuman that it hadn't been able to survive the womb. Never mind her nearly suicidal attempt at abortion. They always blamed Erik. It was easier than admitting something else had been going on feet away from them for a long time without their knowledge... or at least without their acknowledgment.

Anton was the first person to acknowledge that she'd been in pain for three years, and it had nothing to do with crimes committed against her before her wedding.

"Are you going to let him back in?" he asked.

Bella could not speak. A litany of explanations and excuses filled her mind, but the lump in her throat blocked all the words from coming out.

Erik was _back_! He had promised he would come back, and here he was. More than two years later than she'd expected him, but back all the same. He'd found them in spite of the years of travel, just as he had promised. And what would he say? Would he tell her he'd figured out who he was, and who he was did not include a silly gypsy girl as part of his life? Would he tell her how much he had missed her all this time, and take her into his arms and beg for forgiveness for taking so long to figure it out?

Surely he had his answers by now...

Anton sighed, rubbing his face with one rough hand.

"Yeah … you are." he laughed bitterly. "You are too good for the likes of him, Arabella Lyberia-"

"-_Don't_ call me that!" she snapped, flinching at the surname of her father. "My name is _Sauveterre. I _chose it. For myself _and_ my husband. I'll never hear the name _Lyberia_ again!"

The crowd was just breaking apart by the horses when she turned and stalked into her _tsera_. Tsifia was moaning loudly again by that point, and again trying to get up out of bed. She'd made it up onto one elbow with one foot hanging over the edge of the mattress. She was over-balancing, and looked about to spill onto the ground head-first. Bella dropped the cask of alcohol to the floor of the tent and rushed to her grandmothers' side. For a moment, Erik's return was almost entirely forgotten.

"What is it, _bunica_?" she asked. "I have wine now. I'll get it for you. Just..._ stay in bed_. _Please_!"

"Help me sit up." Tsifia groaned. "My back is killing me almost as much as my head. Help me sit up."

"Yes, all right." Bella agreed. "But in bed."

She was struggling with her grandmothers' clumsy weight when Tsifia suddenly screamed, making Bella flinch from the sound and turn towards the tent flap with her hand automatically at her hip. Resting there was a knife Gustave had given her before their tribes had parted ways, and she was quite good at unsheathing it in a hurry when she felt in danger. So far, though, it had yet to be put to any further tests of skill.

But her blade never left it's resting place. Her hand grew still and almost limp as she saw the tall black-clad figure hesitantly standing half in and half out of the _tsera_. Erik was entirely in black, including thick fine leather gloves, wide-brimmed black hat, and even a cotton black mask. It was no wonder she had not been able to see him even in moonlight. But his eyes – beautiful and golden as ever – were clearly visible to her even in the dim light of her grandmothers' tent. He had frozen at Tsifia's scream, and looked so uncertainly at Bella's face when she turned to him that it broke her heart.

Then she realized that because she had reached for a knife _Erik_ had _also_ touched a knife at his own hip. He had been prepared to defend himself … from _her_. It made her blood run cold.

"It's all right, _bunica_."

Bella took in a slow, deep breath and turned back to Tsifia, reaching out to pet her hair gently.

"Shhh … it's all right, darling." She spoke just as she would to a fussy toddler. "It's all right. That's Erik. Remember Erik?"

She glanced briefly over her shoulder to see Erik taking one small, hesitant step inside the tent. The flap fell shut behind him, and he rose to an astounding height of over six feet. He was so tall now. So very tall...

"_Ma belle..."_ he greeted, making her stomach clench.

She had forgotten how beautiful his voice was! Now it had a deeper, more steady timbre. To think he must have been going through so many embarrassing bodily changes last time they'd met. Now he was absolute master of a rich voice that leant somewhat more towards baritone than counter-tenor. Even just two words sounded like an aria. A lullaby.

"Come in, Erik." she managed through lips that had gone numb. "Do you see that cask? Please pour my grandmother a large drink. She needs it for the pain."

Erik was beside her almost instantly, and she flinched so violently that he leaned away from her without seeming to even realize it. He was looking worriedly down at Tsifia. The old woman was staring back at him with enormous, fear-filled eyes that fought to recognize him but clearly did not.

"What pain?" he asked intently. "What can I do to help? Can I get her medicine? I have money."

Bella shook her head.

"No doctor in the village will sell you any medicine "

"I don't have to _buy_ it." Erik sounded almost amused by this oversight of hers. She knew perfectly well Erik had not been afraid to _take_ what he wanted in the past. Clearly that had not changed.

"_Perfect_." she sighed. "You are here for one minute, and already you want to instigate a _pogram_. No. Just … just … the wine. Please."

Erik turned. She heard him struggling briefly with the cask and then the sound of liquid pouring from one wooden container into another. Tsifia was calming down already, distracted by the pain in her head. A moment later, Erik was next to Bella again, crouched by the cot she perched on and holding a cup of wine out to Tsifia as an offering.

"Hello, Madame." he greeted in a tender, respectful tone. "Can you remember me?"

Tsifia looked simply confused as she allowed him to help her take a few sips of wine. The longer she drank, the more focused her eyes seemed to become. Bella knew it had nothing to do with the wine. Tsifia simply had more lucid moments.

"You're back, boy?" the old woman asked. "You have been gone a very long time."

Erik sighed as if in relief that he was recognized and acknowledged. He didn't seem to hear the disapproving tone to her voice.

"I know." he admitted ruefully. "You see, I-"

Abruptly, Tsifia reached out and smacked Erik's cheek. It was not a terribly hard hit – not one that would rock his head on his shoulders or anything that severe. But it looked hard enough to sting and knock his cotton mask slightly askew. Bella gasped in astonishment and horror, But Erik bowed his head as if accepting a well-earned punishment.

"I don't care where you have been or what you have been doing." Tsifia snarled. "You abandoned my granddaughter!"

"I never intended that." Erik murmured, sounding properly chastened. So much so that Bella suspected him to be putting on an act to appease her grandmother. "I left to study. To build a trade. But I am back now. I have two horses of my own, and money enough to buy a new performance tent. One bigger than what the tribe already has. I _always_ intended to return for Bella."

Bella turned away from her grandmother to stare at Erik's profile. He kept his eyes lowered. His voice was so full of pain that it wrenched her heart. Her breath caught in her throat.

Tsifia grabbed Erik by the front of his shirt to pull herself closer to him.

"You look at me, boy." she demanded.

"_Bunica..._" Bella tried to stop this. It was too much strain on the old woman, surely. Far too much. And it was too much strain on _Bella_, who felt as though she were in a surreal, foggy dream. She could just barely accept that Erik was really here.

"No, Bella, it's all right."

Erik slowly lifted his eyes to Tsifia's, and they examined each other an endless moment. Then her grandmother released Erik and leaned back once more. She must have seen something in his eyes that mollified her slightly.

"You had better be good to my girl." she warned him. "You be good to my Bella, boy, or I'll lay a gypsy curse on you that will be _legendary_."

Bella swallowed thickly, but Erik seemed to be _smirking_ under his mask. Obviously, he had not been gone so long that he'd forgotten curses did not actually exist among the Romany. Curses were evil things. Things never to be spoken of or committed. No gypsy would risk their soul by doing such a terrible thing.

"I _want_ to do right by her." he assured. "I swear that if she will still have me, I will be a good husband to her."

Bella watched as Erik rose to his feet and backed away. He held the cup of wine out to her, letting her continue plying Tsifia with the liquid. He was not looking directly at Bella now, and she could not bring herself to try and meet his eyes, either.

"We heard you were in Italy." she finally managed to admit. "We kept track of you the best we could. You were somewhere near Rome? I've never been there."

Erik nodded, looking tired and shaky. His eyes never left the old woman as she gradually dropped off to sleep.

"Yes." he confessed. "I went to Rome, and wound up studying architecture again. To my luck a very kind man took me on as an apprentice when he found me trespassing on one of his building sites – instead of trying to have me arrested."

Bella blinked, and found a glowing pride filling her chest in spite of her concern. Erik had told an old dying woman he wanted to return to her. But she did not take that as gospel truth. Many people lied to the dying to make their passing easier.

"I _told_ you that you could be an architect!" she exclaimed, making him start and chuckle slightly.

"Well … I was certainly able to learn the craft." he agreed. "But it turns out there is no life for me in a place like Rome. No place for me in that field, just as I suspected... It is too dangerous for a man like me to stay in any one place for too long..."

Finally, he looked directly at her again. Bella wished she was not sitting on the cot. He was examining her head to toe, and it made her feel intensely self-conscious. It felt as if he were outright devouring her with only his gaze. And, to think, she was wearing a very simple and modest dress of brown and red.

"I am so glad to see you alive and well." he admitted, relief flooding his voice. There were tears suddenly misting his eyes. Slowly and hesitantly, he held his left hand towards her with his palm up in an offering. "Bella … I missed you."

Arabella stared at his offered hand, torn a little between taking it and smacking it away. She had missed Erik, yes. But she'd also felt betrayed by his extended absence. Abandoned, shunned, forgotten... She still was not sure he'd told Tsifia the truth when he'd claimed to want to still be with her. Missing her and being glad to see her were not necessarily the same thing.

She must have hesitated for too long, because Erik abruptly jerked his entire body away from her, and began to pace the cramped _tsera_.

"I missed you, too." she offered quickly, hoping he wouldn't decide that coming back had been a bad idea. Hoping he wouldn't simply leave without giving her the answers she craved – if she could find the courage to seek them out. "_Very_ much."

She turned to check on Tsifia, tucking her in tightly under a warm blanket as she stood up to leave the cot. When she turned back to Erik, he was again standing still; staring at her. He looked almost like a statue. There was something frightening in his eyes. Something desperate, lonely, and frightened. It was a sickly, heartrending combination.

"Bella … may I hold you?" he whispered, sounding like a child. A child smaller than the boy she'd met three years prior. "_Please_... may I hold you?"

Startled, Bella tilted her head at him. It was such a pathetic plea, really. This man had left her behind for three years without so much as a plan or note. If he'd wanted to send her a message, there would have been ways. Even if it took months to reach her, he could have contacted her. But he had not. Now he was back and asking to hold her...

"O-of course..." she decided slowly. There was no point in being cruel or unkind. He was not asking for much. And she had missed the all-too-brief experience of being tenderly held.

"May I take off my mask?"

Again, she hesitated. This time she did not hesitate because of her own doubts. It just … seemed like such an odd question for him to ask _her_. _She_ had _always_ wanted to see him.

"Of _course_." she repeated more firmly.

Erik ripped away his mask with such practice, it almost felt like she were an audience member at a show. He stood there with his horrible face looking a bit squarer, slightly more filled-out as if he'd recently been privileged to have a regular, decent diet. He looked better fed than most of the people in her tribe as of late.

She felt a stab of jealousy over that, but nothing else. There was no horror or disgust. Just … looking at the man who had been a boy she dearly loved.

When she made no sound or face to alarm him, Erik let the mask fall from suddenly limp fingers, and he crossed the tent in one enormous stride to pull her up into his arms as if he wanted to crush her into his body. Still, his grip wasn't confining or painful. It wasn't even very strong. Just … _desperate_. Helplessly, Arabella put her arms up around his shoulders in return and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. Well … the side of his arm just _under_ his shoulder. He really _had_ gotten much taller!

Bella had not grown even half as much!

For a long moment they just held each other, letting the awkwardness between them slowly fade as they were enveloped by the familiar smells and touch of each other. Bella settled into Erik so swiftly and so comfortably that it did not take long to feel the tense undercurrent keeping Erik's innermost core as taught as a bowstring. He was soon trembling as she nuzzled him, reveling in the feeling of just being _touched_. No one had touched her in three years other than Tsifia and the children she watched. Not one person had touched her with affection. Not even Gustauve, who'd touched her multiple times to correct her hold on a knife, or how she held her body. And it felt so wonderful!

"What's wrong, Erik?" she finally asked gently, giving in to her need to take care of him and love him, in spite of all the pain and shame she'd been suffering without him. It was not Erik specifically that she gave kindness and forgiveness to. It was simply who she was, and what she was driven to do – so long as the crime against her wasn't _too_ bad. She couldn't help offering her compassion.

"I had to see you. To touch you again … to know you were alive and could bare just to _look_ at me..." Erik's breath was trembling, just like his body. "Oh, _ma belle_... A girl _died_ because of me! A silly little girl who actually thought she _loved_ me _**died!**_ Died _because of my wretched face_!"

He was on the verge of some terrible breakdown, Bella could feel it. Her arms tightened around him as if that could help hold him together.

"I'm … I'm so sorry..."

Stunned, Bella pulled away from their embrace to look up at him.

"Did you _know_ her?" she asked worriedly, although the answer seemed obvious.

"Yes..." Erik sucked in a hard breath. "She was … my masters' daughter!"

Then the dam broke, and he practically collapsed against her. Bella tried to hold him, but he was too heavy. Instead of holding him up, she sank down to the ground with him and wrapped him all the more tightly in her arms. Even though he was so tall, Erik somehow managed to fold himself into a strange, tiny fetal position; with his head dropping from hers to her shoulder and finally to her lap. Very familiar with this position from months and years of babysitting children, Bella stroked his scalp and rocked her body in comfort.

She tried to soothe him … tried to be of some comfort. But this pain was obviously far too great, and he'd been holding it in for God-alone knew how long. She could feel the grief leech out of him like poison. It was a poison that filled the tent and eventually dispersed through any available cracks and breaks in the canvas. But it was a slow, suffocating process. Even she felt the horrible toxicity of it surrounding her.

"I know what I did was wrong!" Erik exclaimed. "I never should have left you alone for so long! I should have come to get you! But I was … so afraid. I thought you would never forgive me! And I didn't dare come back until I deserved you! But this … I couldn't … I couldn't _bare_ it alone, Bella! Please, forgive me! Forgive me for doing this to you! I just_ needed you so much_!"

He did not speak so much of his long absence; she knew that. He wanted forgiveness for returning after a three year absence, while mourning the death of another girl he'd clearly been quite fond of. Bella did not know to what extent this girl had captured Erik's heart, and that stung almost as much as the long time he had been gone. _This_ was what he begged her forgiveness for. That he had somehow wronged her, but still found his only solace _in_ her.

"Erik..." she began slowly, her uncertain tone making him lift his eyes to hers in worry. "If your masters' daughter were still alive … would you be here today?"

He flinched at the question, and Bella had to hold her breath against the pain of his incoming answer.

"Today?" he asked, stalling for time to try and pull his thoughts together. "No. No, not _today_. But I _missed_ you, _ma belle_. I was going to return _soon_, no matter-"

"Did you love her?" Bella interrupted, feeling heat fill her chest and climb up her throat. Her lungs squeezed tightly in her rib cage and her heart hammered.

Erik froze, blinking at her for a long moment in what seemed to be confusion.

"_What?_"

"Did you _love_ her?" Bella repeated.

Erik pulled away from her, shaking his head as he turned his body away.

"No! No, of _course_ not!" he denied. "She was the daughter of my _master_! He treated me like his own _son_! I would _never_-"

"-_I_ nearly fell in love."

The silence that came over the tent was nearly suffocating. Erik was shrinking in on himself, breathing heavily as if there was suddenly no air. Bella felt a brief flicker of satisfaction that she had found a place to sting him. Then shame filled her. Vindictiveness was not in her nature, and it wasn't exactly fair. But she couldn't stop now that she'd started. Vindictive revenge for the pain he'd caused her, or simple statement of fact, it didn't matter. She had to continue.

"I met him at one of the gatherings." she continued quietly, reaching out to touch his arm in order to let him know that this was all right. That the story would not break him entirely. "Gustave. He was twenty-four, a knife thrower. He didn't know so much about me..."

Erik glanced at her sharply.

"No one told him you were a married woman?" he asked with simmering fury contained only by a barely restrained attempt at patience. Perhaps he already knew he deserved at least this much pain from her after how he'd left for so long.

"Oh, he knew." Bella admitted. "I told him myself, once I realized he was not merely toying with me when he flirted. He saw a lonely young woman who seemed to have no husband and started trying to court me a little. Offered to teach me how to use a knife. How to throw one, defend myself with one … fight with one. I never got very good at the fighting part. But what he did not know was my past. He didn't know about my father, or the baby, or that I'm a half-breed. And it was nice, Erik … so nice not to have any of that hanging over me."

Erik shuddered, his hands turning into claws as he raked long and uneven fingernails over the fabric covering his lower thighs.

"Was he good looking?" he whispered.

Bella hesitated this time. She tried to think about it objectively. To Erik, any man with a nose was good-looking. Or at least better looking than he was.

"Yes." she replied finally. "He had blue eyes. I don't see that very often in a Romany. But his were pale … almost gray. I liked his eyes very much."

"So why didn't you marry him?" Erik snapped, finally losing just a bit of his self-control. Normally Bella would have shrunk away from a tone like that. But not today. This was a man who had never hurt her physically. But he'd injured her deeply in his absence – and maybe even more with his return. "If he was so charming and good-looking and attentive, _why didn't you marry him_? You could have, couldn't you? Our marriage could have been annulled. Easily."

"Because I was already married to you!" Bella seethed. "You were gone for eighteen months, Erik. Believe me, if I'd known you'd still be gone another sixteen, I might have rethought my choices! But I _loved_ you! And I take my wedding vows _seriously_!"

What she did not want to admit was how she'd felt too afraid to trust Gustave. How she had second-guessed his affections. How she'd felt that, because of Yaakov, Adnah, and even Erik, she'd believed no man would seriously pursue her in a romantic way. That no man would ever truly want the woman she was. Her father had used her. A suitor had tried to assault her. Her own husband had abandoned her because he thought his desires for her were too sinful to give into – among other reasons. Why should she have trusted the knife thrower?

Erik shook his head miserably; but now Bella had no idea why.

"_Did you love this girl?_ Your masters' daughter?" she insisted.

Erik took a long moment, swallowing a hard lump in his throat.

"She was lovely." he admitted in a mere breath. Bella almost couldn't hear him. "Dark and beautiful and spirited... so much like you... But she was spoiled … a little bully that always got her way. She reminded me more of my mother in her manner..."

Slowly he raised his gaze to bravely meet hers.

"She was beautiful in the way you are. But her ugliness was inside, just like Adnah's."

Arabella spat to one side at the mention of the man Erik had once killed trying to protect her. Erik followed suit obediently, accepting the superstitious action.

"I did not love her." he finished. "I might have done …if I had not known you first. If I had not had vows of my own to keep, and someone truly _good_ to compare her ugliness to. She was not evil, or wicked. She was just a spoiled little rich girl, beautiful and under the impression she could make the world in her image. She thought she could make me take off my mask and find a gorgeous prince charming underneath. But … I was no handsome prince. Instead she found death … and death claimed her."

Letting out a long, heavy sigh of relief, Bella nodded in acceptance.

"I _am_ sorry." she replied again, glancing over her shoulder as Tsifia moaned low in her fitful sleep. Suddenly preoccupied with her grandmother, Arabella started to rise to her feet. "I'm sorry you suffered. I'm sorry that you were hurt by her."

"I really was coming back." Erik stated abruptly. "Truly, Bella. A few months ago I took leave from Giovanni's house when the work was light. I found a fair to perform at and earn a little extra money, and I managed to get some news of you. But when I heard how far away you were, I knew I could never return to Giovanni's house when I had promised to. So I was waiting. I knew you would come South again. _I would have come_, Bella – and _soon_."

Sighing, Bella nodded in simple acceptance.

"Erik, I'm too tired for this now." she admitted. "This is as much as I can take. I have other questions … things I want to know. But not tonight. This is all just … too much at once."

Erik rose to his feet, brushing grass and dirt off his fine trousers and straightening his shirt fastidiously.

"I will sleep outside." he offered.

"No." Bella shook her head decisively. "Bring your bed roll in here. You are my husband. I am your wife. You will sleep in here where you belong. We can worry about … other things later."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Sostendo

It had been a very long night. As exhausted as he had been after long days of nonstop travel, Erik found his mind too tormented to sleep for longer than a few minutes at a time. The fact that Tsifia woke seven times, moaning in pain, certainly did not help. Each time she began to stir, he would sit up in his sleeping sack and look out from the corner of the _tsera; _but Bella never asked for him to help. She didn't apologize for keeping him up, as he would have expected her to in the past. Before his long absence, Bella had always worried whenever she interrupted his sleep that she was putting him out somehow, or making him angry. But on that night, she was far more concerned about Tsifia than his comfort – and that was good. He did not want Bella to worry about him when her grandmother was in so much agony.

"I can still find where the doctor is." he offered the fourth time Tsifia started whimpering.

"No." Bella replied, shaking her head in the darkness. "There's nothing you can do. Go back to sleep."

Eventually even Tsifia seemed to be too exhausted to wake in pain. All three of them had sunk into fitful slumber, and only when Arabella climbed out of the cot at the first gray light of dawn did Erik stir. His eyes cracked open to watch her pad over to a ewer and attempt to pour something into the porcelain bowl beneath it. Nothing happened and she gave a low groan of exhausted annoyance. Erik pushed himself into a sitting position.

"I can fill it." he offered, already pushing back his coverings. Bella jumped, even though his voice was very soft and gentle. He saw her turn in the darkness and stare at him as he struggled tiredly to his knees. "Here, I'll take it to the river."

"No." Arabella shook her head, her jaw setting in determination.

Was she going to be stubbornly independent now that she was over the shock of his return? Would she now be angry enough to change her mind and push him out of her life like he richly deserved? Erik held his breath, hoping to God this wouldn't be the case.

"I … I need to go to the river." she admitted after a moment, reaching for a cape that would shield her from view if anyone else was up and about in their camp. "I … haven't washed well in so long … do you mind?"

"Of course not!" Erik blinked, startled that she would suspect him of resenting her need for basic hygiene. "I can keep an eye and ear out for your grandmother. But you could go back to bed, _ma belle..."_

"No." Bella repeated. "Wouldn't do any good. When I wake up, I'm up. There's nothing for it. But … thank you."

With that, she brushed quickly outside with a few necessities like a thick blanket no doubt intended to be used as a towel, a bar of crude soap, and what looked to be a sea sponge of all things. Erik wondered briefly how she'd gotten hold of such a thing as he began tying up his bedroll and most of his belongings. He took her absence as an opportunity to change clothes and pull out a square of black silk cloth embroidered with rich dark flowers. Had he actually spent any money on it, he imagined it would have cost a fortune. As it was, he'd stolen the cloth off of a clothesline as he fled Rome.

He could see Bella at the river when he stepped outside. Others in the camp were beginning to stir; but apparently being possibly spotted at a distance wasn't the horror to her it might have been three years prior. No doubt the close proximity to the river made her feel safe going their alone; along with the time of day and the fact that there were no woods nearby. Just a few trees that screened her modestly enough from openly being observed.

Erik busied himself building a large fire. The morning was rather cold, and she would need some place to warm herself. In the _tsera_ he found some smoked sausage, flour, and pepper, and decided to try and make her some biscuits and gravy in the cast iron skilled kept with other outdoor kitchen necessities. He also found leaves for a good strong tea. It wouldn't be as powerful as coffee, but Erik didn't much care for coffee, and neither did Bella if he remembered correctly. Besides, coffee was an exorbitant luxury that was difficult to steal.

The food was just starting to warm over the fire when Bella returned to the tent huddled beneath her thick blanket. Her hair hung lank and wet on either side of her face, her skin pale and her lips almost violet with cold. Even though the tea was nowhere near ready, he poured some of the water into a mug and held it out to her.

"Here." he insisted. "Warm yourself."

Arabella stared at him for such a long moment Erik worried they were about to quarrel. He didn't understand why, because he was only trying to be a good husband – a good person – by making sure she took care of herself.

It was only when her eyes softened and she accepted the cup that he began to realize it was his very act of concern that had thrown her off … not the fact that he'd done it. He wondered how long it had been that anyone had really attempted to care for _her_ in the past three years. She must have spent so much time caring for Tsifia that her own needs had surely been a secondary concern to her – _if_ that. Bella had never been a particularly selfish person.

"Thanks." she murmured, sitting on the ground in her blanket close enough to feel the heat of the fire. "How is she?"

"Quiet as a baby lamb." Erik assured. "You know that if you change your mind about that medicine, you only have to say the word. I'll go wherever I have to, _pay_ whatever I have to-"

"-I know." she interrupted quickly, but gently. "You're wonderful for it. I love you for it. But no. I won't change my mind. Tsifia would probably kill me if I brought a _gaje_ doctor to her. Or any of their medicines. She doesn't trust them."

Erik slumped a little. It was uncharitable towards Tsifia, but he found himself thinking that the old woman's death would be the kindest thing that could happen to Bella just now. She was helpless against her grandmothers' deteriorating condition. She wouldn't dishonor Tsifia's preferences. But surely honoring her grandmother was killing her inside.

When the food was ready and he had spooned it into two small servings for them, he sat at her side without daring to be too close.

"I brought something for you." he stated, digging into his trouser pocket to pull out the expensive silk cloth. Unfolding it until it was about nine by nine inches, he displayed it for her viewing. "Will you have it?"

Bella blinked at what was obviously meant to be a _dicklo_, her hand going self-consciously to her unadorned head. Color filled her cheeks and he watched a war of emotions play over her face.

"That's far too expensive a gift, Erik." she protested a little weakly. "And it does not work like that."

"What doesn't?" he asked, bewildered and lowering the cloth in dismay. "It is just a gift-"

"-No it is not." she accused, with little heat. She seemed so tired. Even the bowl of food in her hand was tilted forward almost enough to threaten spillage. "It's a bribe."

Erik stared at her, not understanding … but also understanding completely. Shame filled him, because he knew she was at least _partially_ right. He hadn't bought the gift – but that did not matter so much in his eyes. She would not care one way or the other. What was important was that when he'd stolen it off the clothesline, he'd imagined seeing Arabella wearing it. He'd clearly imagined giving it to her and immediately helping her to tie it over her head. He'd imagined how delighted she would be to have such a fine piece of clothing – however small it was.

"I … just thought you would like it." he muttered, staring down at his empty bowl and slowly folding the cloth.

"I _do_ like it." Bella admitted. "But not as that kind of a gift. It's just very pretty. It looks very soft, too. But it's still a bribe … and I have more self-respect than that. I won't fall into your arms like some love-sick maiden just because you gave me some pretty favor."

Erik felt his muscles contracting, making his body start to shrink in on itself.

Arabella rose to her feet, hugging the blanket more tightly around herself.

"I can welcome you home, Erik." she told him. "I can forgive you. But I can't forget that you left for three years. I can't simply forget that you came back only because of some other girl dying and not accepting you-"

Erik lifted his face, his eyes flashing furiously at her.

"-That is _not_ why I came back!" His voice was nearly a shout at once. He would have lowered his voice after the initial outburst, remembering suddenly how frightened Bella was when people became angry. But she didn't so much as flinch. She just looked down at him. Her rock-steady, sad gaze made him grow completely silent before more rantings could fly out of his unthinking head.

After a moment, Bella turned and returned to the tent where Tsifia was starting to moan again. Erik shoved the cloth haphazardly back into his pocket. If she didn't want the damned thing, he didn't care if it got wrinkled or ruined.

He just wanted to make _amends_. To _apologize_. To see her smile again instead of having her look so tired and sad. He wanted to lift some of the terrible self-imposed weight from her shoulders. And she wouldn't let him do _any_ of it!

He dropped his bowl carelessly to the grass and rose to his feet, looking around to figure out where best to set up his performance area for the day. If he was back, and at least somewhat welcome, he might as well start earning his keep again right away before anyone had a chance to complain.

He was too angry to even defend himself. And if he tried, he would only upset Tsifia – who was in enough agony as it was. Instead of speaking any further to Bella, he stalked into the tent only long enough to gather his belongings – the ones he would need for the day, at least. Then he stormed back outside and all the way across to the other side of the camp furthest from the river. Whatever Bella had planned for that day, she could do it on her own. She seemed to be surviving just fine without him already. She didn't need his help.

This anger and mood lasted only until other gypsies began to wake up, and he watched several parents herding their extremely young children and babies towards Tsifia's _tsera_. Bella would come out to greet every one, taking the child from its' mothers hands in order to escort it inside. Erik wondered how so many little ones could fit into the canvas abode, and how they could possibly not disturb the extremely ill Tsifia. By the time the ninth child under six appeared, Arabella looked entirely at the end of her rope in spite of how the children weren't making _too much_ of a noticeable raucous. Still, she would smile brightly at each child and greet them with overwhelming affection.

This was what killed his anger. He certainly hadn't eve imagined her caring for so many little ones all at once while simultaneously caring for her grandmother. As tired as the work seemed to make her almost instantly, he also realized rather quickly that just the sight of the little ones _also_ revitalized her. She was naturally maternal, and just seeing this caused his gut to clench tightly.

He had returned to try and win back his young wife after a sincerely hideous betrayal of sorts; and yet she was a loving, welcoming, warm presence to all those around her. Their fight that morning had not tainted her ability to be nurturing to others. Being essentially on her own had not jaded her to loving others.

For a moment, he found himself thinking of their future. If she could fully accept him back … could they some day have a family? Could he experience the softening joy of seeing her hold _their_ child someday? Such a decision was years away at best, but … when he saw Arabella he couldn't help remembering the old fantasy of watching her teach a little girl how to dance, or perhaps kissing the scraped knee of a little boy trying to pick apples out of an orchard tree.

Bella did not want him buying or stealing medicine for her grandmother. She did not want his gifts... Other than bringing a larger profit into the tribe, how was he supposed to help her? How was he supposed to match her clear selflessness and bottomless well of love? As he began performances for the day, he had no idea what he was supposed to do … and he agonized over it most of the day as he took bow after bow, and created spectacular little shows for people who'd never even dreamed such little feats existed.

In the mid afternoon, he saw that some parents returned to collect their little ones – or Bella passed them out to others who were probably just as trustworthy as their parents. By the end of the day, there was only one infant, who looked no more than a year old or so to Erik, sleeping on her shoulder as she paced outside the tent and looked around as if waiting for the mother to hurry up and collect her offspring.

It would have been at least an _idea_ to offer to watch or entertain the little ones, but he doubted very much if any Romany parent would allow him anywhere _near_ their children.

After some thought … he realized it really _was_ a decent idea. Perhaps he could never watch the children for any stretch of time. But if he performed near the _tsera_, perhaps Arabella could sit the older ones in front of his show long enough to get little chores done, or get them out from underfoot whenever Tsifia became a particularly demanding patient! Or he could sit with Tsifia when it was the _children_ being demanding of her energy!

With this in mind, he packed up his performance gear and brought it back to the tent. By then the sleeping baby was gone, and Arabella was once again cooking something outside the _tsera_. This time, she seemed to be making some thick stew with chunks of clearly different types of meat and a few root vegetables. It smelled very bland, but at least it was food.

"Here..." he offered, pulling some coins out from his pocket. He'd made some good profit that day, and he wasn't afraid to share it. He'd been prepared to do exactly that long before coming back. Bella glanced at his offering, glanced down at his still rather heavy purse, and then willingly pocketed the money at the tiny satchel on her hip.

"Thank you." she murmured.

Erik decided not to bother her, but only sat down and waited for the food to be ready. He wasn't sure how to broach his idea with her. He didn't even know if _talking_ about it was a good idea.

"How is your grandmother?" he inquired gently when they were about half done with their bowls.

Arabella kept her eyes on her bowl of food, biting on her bottom lip in a familiar sign of distress.

"Not good..." she breathed in a choking voice. "I don't … it won't be very long now."

Slowly, she looked over at him.

"Will you help me move her?"

"Like when _you_ were … ill?"

"Yes. Exactly like that."

Erik frowned slightly. No one had ever properly explained to him why gypsies should never die in their own homes when it was preventable. He didn't like the idea of moving an old and confused woman in so much pain when they could barely keep her comfortable as it was. But it was clearly important to Arabella, so he imagined it would be six times more important for the old woman if she were lucid.

"Of course I will." he assured. "When do you want to move her?"

"Not tonight." she replied at once. He recognized the desperate procrastination that bordered on denial in her words. "First thing in the morning, I suppose."

Erik nodded, and reached over without thinking to place a hand on her arm. To his surprise, she did not pull away.

"All right, then. First thing in the morning. And I can help you watch those little ones, if you want. Just when you need to do something in particular and they are in the way. You know I have plenty of tricks to keep the children hypnotized for a good hour or so."

Bella chuckled, shaking her head at him.

"Not just the children..."

He smiled at her, glad she wasn't still angry.

"Why don't you go to bed?" he offered. "I'll sit up with her for a little while. You can take a shift later. You can't tell me you've been sleeping much lately."

"I wouldn't even _try_ to say that."

Her body sagged slightly, and Erik tried to hold an arm out to her so that she could be invited up against his side. It was a familiar gesture that he used to make a lot in their past. Bella had never hesitated to lean into him before and allow him to hold or shield her.

It took a long moment. At first, Bella wasn't even paying enough attention to realize Erik sat waiting with one arm extended. But when she did, it only took the briefest moment for her to decide it would be all right if she gave into him ever-so-slightly. She shifted over to lean her side into his, and Erik very gently drew her head to his shoulder before stroking her uncovered hair.

"You know something?" he asked after a moment of quiet. "I think I like your hair uncovered more than I like it when you wear a _dicklo_. I like being able to reach out and just touch your hair."

Bella hummed in a non-committal answer. Erik didn't press for more, and didn't continue to tease. A tiny part of him had hoped she would mock him and reassure him the _dicklo_ would be back in place very soon. But he hadn't been lying. He _did_ like seeing and touching her hair at will. In all honesty, he didn't care one way or the other if she wanted to wear a hair covering like a traditional gypsy wife, or if she wore nothing at all on her head. Both were fine by him, and he found pleasure no matter how he looked at her.

"Come on." he finally grunted, trying to rise to his feet while keeping an arm around her. It was obvious Bella was truly exhausted and was falling asleep against him. "You can sleep on my pallet for a few hours. That way she can't disturb you."

Arabella had such a hard time walking the six feet to their tent that he gave up escorting her, and simply scooped her up into his arms - against her murmured and befuddled protestations.

"Hush." he chided softly. "Just rest, _ma belle_. Just sleep."

She continued protesting until he lay her on a clumsily unrolled bedroll. It wasn't easy to pull the item out of his belongings and unpack it while still holding Bella against him and off the ground. It was just lucky she was so petite – if you didn't include her overly-generous curves – because it felt almost like carrying an overgrown child instead of holding up a fully grown woman. If Erik weren't so very tall, he might not have managed the feat. As it was, he barely managed to tuck her into the sleeping sack without jostling her violently awake.

He brushed her hair back from her face for a minute once she was settled, and then tried to lean back and move to the cot where Tsifia lie. But Arabella was still awake – if just barely – and she grabbed his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip.

"Don't go..." she whispered.

Erik settled back onto his knees.

"I won't go anywhere." he promised, stroking the back of her insistent hand. "I'm staying right here, _ma belle_. From now on until forever."

She cracked her eyes open just enough so he could see the light hit them.

"Sing something?" she whispered.

"W...what do you want to hear?"

Bella shrugged helplessly. She did not know most composers or the names of songs very well. At least not out of the music Erik tended to sing or create. She wouldn't have usually recognized his style compared to anyone else, either. Erik thought a long time, thinking her eyes would close and her hand would drop before he could make a decision. But she clung to consciousness stubbornly.

Sighing, Erik nodded and decided on a very old song that was in such a high tenor voice that surely it had been originally been performed by a _castrato_ in the past! But Erik's range was enormous. He knew he could go from mid-to-high Soprano voice to high-to-mid baritone with little effort. He sang it as he had learned it, in Italian, which would be incomprehensible to her. But it would still soothe her to sleep, if he was as good as he thought he was. He knew what the words meant, of course, and when her eyes drifted completely shut once more, he did not bother to quiet down and stop for her better rest. He _continued_ for her to get better sleep.

"_I will see with joy_

_ the soul of my soul,_

_ heart of my heart full of content._

_ And if from my dear object_

_ I be far away,_

_ I will sigh, suffering every moment_..."

She was very much asleep by the time the long repetitive song was over, but Erik continued to stroke the back of her hand for a very long time afterwards. Tsifia was resting as comfortably as the poor old woman could under the dire circumstances, so there was no need for him to rush off. As long as he could, he intended to kneel or sit by Bella's side and stroke the soft back of her dark hand with his fingertips.

This was what he had returned for, surely. To bring the young woman he loved so very desperately a semblance of peace and happiness. In a time of great unrest and agitation and grief, he'd given her just a few moments of peace … and he would continue to do so for the rest of his living days. He swore it to himself as he sat staring down at her, watching her chest rise and fall with her deep, even breathing. Listening to the melody of her light and ladylike snores.

Tsifia would die soon, and Bella would need him more than ever. This was not a conceited thought. He knew Arabella. One thing she was always afraid of was finding herself alone in the world, and he would certainly not allow that to _ever_ happen to her. Not for all the building contracts in Europe.

It was nearly two hours before Tsifia began to stir, and Erik did exactly the same things he knew Arabella would want done for her. He cooled her aching head with a damp cloth treated with medicinal plant salves, changed her bed linens and clothes as necessary, and cleaned her poor wrinkled body multiple times. When she moaned in pain and began to come around more fully, he would offer her nibbles of food and a great deal of inexpensive but serviceable alcohol. Then, when all else failed, he would sing again, trying his best to use his skills to bring her, too, a bit more peace.

He lost track of the time, and didn't have any idea it was after midnight when Arabella stirred in his sleeping sack. She yawned hugely and pushed herself up onto one elbow. He saw her looking around in utter confusion, and then studying him beside Tsifia with slow understanding.

"How long have you let me sleep?" she demanded.

Erik pulled out a very cheap pocket watch he'd stolen at the Northern border of Italy.

"Around six hours." he admitted. "Would you like to go back to sleep?"

"No. Erik, you didn't have to stay up so late!" She was already pushing herself out of his bed and onto her feet. "This isn't your responsibility!"

"Your health and happiness _are_ my responsibility." he told her simply, without any heat. He saw this as a very simple truth. "You want your grandmother taken care of, and you badly needed some good rest. I'll stay up the rest of tonight if it's what you need."

Bella's eyes softened and she gave him the weakest of appreciative smiles before putting an arm about his back in a small embrace. Erik closed his eyes, soaking in the feel of her acceptance.

"I know that you would." she told him. "But I want you to go to sleep now. Honestly..."

She sighed heavily, shifting uncomfortably and just looking down at her fitful grandmother.

"What is it, _ma belle_?" he pressed gently. "You can tell me _anything_."

Bella hesitated another long moment.

"It's the money." she finally blurted, sighing in frustration. "The money you work so hard to earn for yourself."

"What about it?" he demanded in confusion. "Is it not enough? What is mine is yours, Bella. If you need more; just tell me."

She shrugged helplessly.

"I don't _know_ what I need. She's _dying_, Erik... She's dying, and I don't know the first thing about how to put her to rest!"

Realization dawned and Erik nodded in understanding.

"You're worried about paying for a good Christian funeral."

"Yes..." Her voice was small once again.

"She'll have one." he promised at once. "You said she has days left. And then, if I remember correctly, you mourn for three days afterwards?"

Arabella nodded again wordlessly, looking hopeless at the thought of having to mourn and bury the only blood family she had left.

"I will do what I have to." he assured. "Your grandmother will be buried in a church yard, just like Ar … Just like our daughter."

Her eyes met his sharply, and he offered a smile.

"I did make her my own, didn't I?" he challenged.

Bella bit on her bottom lip, and he reached out to brush his thumb along it gently, wanting to sooth the ache that must have been forming by that point.

"Tsifia will be buried with honor, respect, love, and propriety." he vowed to his wife. "Whatever the cost. I'll figure it out."

With that promise he stood from the side of the cot and yawned enormously before climbing into the space she had so recently vacated.

"Wake me if you need anything." he pressed. "You aren't alone, Bella. Not now. I'm here if you need me."

He was very much aware of her eyes on him for a long time after that, while he searched for sleep. He shivered a few times, realizing he was delighted by her perusal. There was no more hostility between them – at least not for the time being. Whatever reasons she had for staring at him between performing nursing tasks … he was sure they were good ones.


	5. Chapter 5

Bella stared down at the coffin, feeling a gut-deep, roiling ache. Never had she known this kind of empty sorrow. Not even when Erik had been gone for so long. But she could not seem to feel it on the outside. The pain escaped through tears rolling from her eyes, but her face was nearly stoic. Her body was stiff and defensive. Even having Erik with an arm around her and one hand smoothing softly on her shoulder, she could not seem to give into the wails that wanted to encompass her.

On the inside, she was in agony.

On the outside, she was numb.

Erik seemed to completely understand her. His hand moved from her shoulder and up to her covered hair. That morning she had decided to wear the beautiful black _dicklo_ he'd given her upon his return, even though it had brilliantly colored flowers on it. With tender persistence, he drew her head to his shoulder, turning her partially away from the other mourners.

Gypsies did not mourn quietly and with dignity. They wailed, threw dirt, clawed at their faces and clothes. It had to do with some belief or other that Bella had never completely understood. But she knew they were likely taking notes of her stoicism in the center of the cacophony. They would not understand that she had felt so much turmoil for so long that the depth of this grief had simply short-circuited some deep part of her heart.

"It's all right." Erik murmured to her. He stroked her head lightly, putting his other arm around her carefully, without crushing the two flowers in his hand. In a few moments, they would each toss the blossoms onto the coffin in the dirt. Bella was not entirely sure she could do that without leaping down into the hole in the ground, curling up into a ball, and just refusing to move. She loathed this coming to an end. "It's all right, _ma belle_."

Erik had been a true Godsend the last nineteen days of Tsifia's life. No one had expected her to last so long, but the old woman had proven to be a tigress when it came to fighting for her life. She'd lain virtually comatose for the last week and a half, barely stirring enough to sip at broth or tea trickled into her mouth. At least her pain had seemed to have gone away. Erik had always made certain the woman was clean and warm and as comfortable as possible. He had sat up late at night with her, even though he performed all day long, so that Bella could concentrate on her grandmother rather than work babysitting the children of the tribe. He'd forced Bella to lie down and rest when she was too exhausted to recognize it. He'd put food into her hands and even fed her pieces of bread with his own fingers when she was too preoccupied to bother caring for herself. He had quite literally _forced_ different tribe members to come and sit with Tsifia so that Bella could go into the woods to take care of her body's other needs, with him as a safely distant escort.

He forced no company from her. He just sat nearby and waited to be asked for help unless he knew she would drop otherwise. He'd offered words of support, and reassured her when he found the church and coffin-maker that would allow a burial of a gypsy woman. He'd counted money within her notice so that she was fully aware how much everything would cost and that they had more than enough in case someone wanted to try and fleece them for more later.

Now the worst part of his job was over. He'd gotten her through the actual death of her grandmother. All that was left was to help her really _feel_ again … if she ever could.

The funeral came to a close, and Erik helped Bella step forward to pick up a clump of dirt and toss it into the grave with the flower. When she leaned forward to do so, he held tight to her waist as if knowing what she secretly desired. Then he tossed in his own blossom and dug into one pocket to bring out a fistful of small denomination coins. They made strange noises on the lid of the coffin and the dirt. Muffled tinkling clunks of some sort she couldn't remember having ever heard before. She stood there staring down into the grave for long moments as the rest of the tribe followed her lead and tossed coins dirt and flowers into it.

Erik never let go of her the whole time. One hand stayed around her waist, while the other took her hand and held it up to his chest as if trying to make her feel his heartbeat against her knuckles. She was only dimly aware of the continued weeping of her kin. She was much more aware of the yawning pit beneath her. The feel of Erik's hand in hers. The sound of his breathing behind her ear. Everything else was just … so very distant.

Eventually Erik pulled her back and steered them after the others, walking slowly and cautiously along a smooth dirt path. He behaved as if expecting her knees to buckle at any moment. She wondered why, pausing to concentrate on her own body. Had she stopped breathing? Was that why?

No … she was taking slow and deep breaths...

Then she became aware of the bone-deep trembling overtaking her from crown to toe.

"Just a few steps." Erik encouraged. "I've already hired a wagon. You don't have to walk back to the camp. Just a few more steps, and you can rest."

Bella wanted to object and insist that she wasn't weak. That she was perfectly capable of walking just like all the hysterical mourners around them. But she _was_ exhausted. Physically … mentally … She looked forward to sitting down and closing her eyes. Shutting out the people around her and ignoring the judgmental glances of everyone else.

She let Erik lead her to the hired wagon and climbed up, clutching so tightly to his hand the entire time that her knuckles were white. No doubt she was hurting him, but she couldn't seem to loosen her hold and he didn't complain.

He put up with so much from her. She would never be able to show her appreciation for how much he'd recently been there for her. In part, because she was terrified he wouldn't be later on down the road. Every morning she woke up wondering if he would still be there or if he would have run off again. But every day he was there. When she woke up, when she went to sleep, when she looked across the encampment... he was always there now. Hovering nearby enough to help. Offering her a soothing discussion or touch. Sometimes, even a song...

The ride back to the camp took a long time, since they moved slowly with the other mourners. But it gave her a lot of time to think as tears oozed down her face. Again, Erik gently pulled her head to his shoulder, stroking her hair as he controlled the reigns with his free hand.

"Rest, _ma belle_." he soothed. "Soon we'll be back at the tent, and you can sleep if you wish. You can finally sleep."

True. She could sleep. There would be no moans of pain or distress to waken her. No fear jerking her into consciousness that brought on a terror her grandmother had died while she was resting. She could truly slip into blissful oblivion for a time.

Except...

She lifted her head a little abruptly.

"We can't..." she realized heavily.

"What?" Erik was confused.

"We can't rest in the _tsera_. Bunica's things … we can't let them stay. Her _tsera_ … everything. It has to burn!"

There was a long moment of suffocating quiet as Erik thought about her words. He already knew this wasteful tradition and superstition. Bella and others had told him before her grandmothers' death. Apparently, he'd been hoping no one would press the issue.

"We can do it tomorrow." he offered. "You need to get a good and restful nights' sleep first-"

"-_No!"_ Arabella insisted. "_Today_, Erik! Just as soon as we get back to camp! We can burn it all after getting our things out, and then get away from this place!"

Erik cleared his throat and murmured to the driver of the wagon to pull to the side of the road and please stop. The driver was less than pleased with this development, but worked his way through the trudging gypsies in order to obey. Then he climbed down and walked away only a few feet to give them a bit of privacy.

Her husband turned, taking her shoulders so they were able to mostly face one another.

"You don't want to leave your people." he stated gently. "You refused to come with me three years ago. There's no reason we have to make this decision right now."

"Yes, there _is_!" Bella insisted. A strange panic seemed to be welling up inside of her. "I stayed for _her_, Erik! Not for myself! I stayed with my grandmother, and now she's _**gone**_!"

The real tears came then. Loud and hard and painful. Bella began moaning insensibly with the force of the unexpected wave of grief, covering her mouth with one hand to stifle the noises as Erik drew her tightly across his lap and into his arms. He rocked her like a child, petting her hair and making soft hushing noises of comfort. He did not tell her once to stop or be quiet. Did not even tell her it would be all right.

What he did say was a million times more important. Something she held onto like a drowning woman would cling to a piece of driftwood.

"I'm here, _ma belle_. I'm here."

While he held and rocked her, the driver returned to the wagon and began moving them along the thin dirt road again. He would undoubtedly leave them long before they reached the campground. Yet he made sure to move quite slow, and didn't seem to be inconvenienced by her caterwauling.

She was hiccuping from the force of her sobs by the time she was ready to calm down, and Erik asked a nearby member of their tribe who'd fallen behind the others if she had a _dicklo_ or handkerchief. Apparently she did, for a moment later he was gently swabbing at Arabella's tear and snot-covered face with a dry and scratchy square of cloth.

"Better?" he asked when her face was mostly dry – or, at least, free of disgusting mucus.

Bella nodded, and he sighed in clear relief.

"Good. I can't stand seeing you in pain like that. Honestly you … rather scared the devil out of me."

A slightly hysterical giggle escaped her mouth, triggering another bout of sobbing. But this jag was very brief, and nowhere near as loud or ugly. Erik gave her a smile with his twisted lips beneath the mask he currently wore – and appropriately black piece of thick leathery cloth.

"We can talk about leaving after the fire." he offered. "We can even burn the cot. Without a tent to put it in, there's no point in keeping it for now. Soon enough I can afford that wagon, anyways."

"Can you?" Bella asked uncertainly, her heart falling in guilt. "You've spent so much on today!"

"I have … acquired enough." he offered in Romany so that the _gaje,_ who was again bringing the wagon to a halt, could not understand. "Don't worry about it, Bella. All I need is a week or two of good performances."

"You mean good crowds." she grumbled as he helped her back to the ground. "There are none of those around _here_."

"If you can handle living under the stars until we find them, I can as well."

Bella squeezed his hand again, but this time stopped when she felt his entire arm stiffen in what seemed to be pain.

"Sorry..." she sighed.

"Bella." Erik offered his own exasperated sigh. "You are grieving. I have handled far worse pain than holding the hand of the woman I love."

She stared up at him gratefully.

"Regret coming back yet?" she challenged, trying for some levity. Erik barked out a small laugh that he quickly smothered, and put his arm around her one more time.

"Never." he reassured. "Now, just rest for another few moments. We'll take care of everything when we get back to the camp. _Then_ we can worry about whether or not we go our own way. Just know I love you, and I'm here. And I _understand_. I'm going to miss her, too."

Arabella began to cry again, but this time much more gently and quietly. She leaned against him with her eyes closed, simply letting the tears fall without any sound. Erik kept his arm comfortingly around her until they arrived back at camp, and then for long after as the tribe around them continued their own particular grieving rituals.

Once the sun began setting, Erik suggested they set the fire that would grant them all the freedom they deserved.

She was almost numb again by then, having spent the hours watching those around her and realizing how detached she felt from the community. As good as they had been to her over the past few short years, she still didn't feel close to any of them. To her, the heart of the tribe had been Tsifia – who was gone. It did not feel as if she had a place there. She never really had. She had simply been _useful_.

Slowly she turned to look up at Erik. He'd been standing there silently since making his suggestion, watching her closely but not pressing for her choice.

"Yes." she agreed with a nod, and a sad little smile. Hesitantly she reached out, and Erik instantly enclosed her fingers in his own. "We need to get some things out … Not much. Just … some things."

"Of course." Erik agreed. "We can't take much, anyway. We only have the horses. But it's better than carrying things on our own backs, yes?"

He gently tugged at her arm and they walked together, one last time, into the _tsera_.


	6. Chapter 6

Sognando

"You look very warm."

Erik looked up over the small fire he'd been working on for several minutes, lifting his eyebrows behind the cloth mask he always wore when traveling. They'd been walking with the two horses for the better part of thirteen hours that day; as they did most days. It was slow traveling, but with their material belongings being carried by the mounts, what else could they expect?

Arabella stood several yards beneath him, up almost to her knees in a wide and swiftly moving stream. She'd been washing clothes for the better part of half an hour, occasionally lowering herself onto a rock that managed to stand dry over the current. Erik knew from experience that leaning over to wash laundry was enough to make anyone's back go into spasms of agony. Especially after walking all day.

"We have enough wood to get us through the night." he assured her. "I'm making the fire extra large so you can come get as warm as I am when you're done."  
Her mouth fell open in false umbrage, and she picked up a wet _dicklo_ from the water to fling a corner in his direction. Water splashed everywhere – but none of it came anywhere near him or his fire.

"I still cannot believe you are making _me_ do this." she retorted.

They both knew perfectly well he never _made_ her do _anything_. There were behaviors that came naturally to them based on how they had been raised, of course. A woman was expected to do things such as laundry and cooking. But if Arabella were truly against her accepted chores on any given day, he certainly wouldn't have held it against her.

"My feet are going numb from the cold."

Erik looked down at his own feet. They were swollen and had blistered, but not so much that they were in agony. They were in no great rush to get anywhere, although both were exceptionally happy to know a city was only a few more miles away. They were running low on provision like the lemon grass Bella would often soak in boiling water for a pseudo-tea. At least they still had a little coffee, and they were usually lucky enough to trap or hunt some animal or another every day. Even if it were just a single fat squirrel, they never quite felt like they were _starving_.

"You should check the traps." she noted after another long comfortable silence. She'd finally finished her last piece of laundry and hung it with the rest. A tree near the stream looked like a multicolored ghost.

Erik glanced up.

"Twenty minutes." he decided. "The animals are just coming out... Hopefully we'll have some real meat tonight."

There were traps in the river a few dozen yards away, hopefully live catching some large fish. But Erik was not very good at removing the scales or the guts. For some reason it was more repulsive for him than gutting a larger animal like a rabbit or even a deer. They'd run across a wounded doe the previous week, and although they hadn't been able to salvage much meat from it, he had not felt disgusted cleaning it. The hide of the animal had been useless, because they didn't yet know how to tend it, or take it cleanly from the meat.

Arabella accepted his decision without a word and came away from the stream to sit by his side, leaning the back part of her arm against him and encouraging him silently to wrap her in his embrace. They often held one another now, and it was glorious. Erik always felt at such peace when he could feel her in his arms. They were still growing reacquainted and comfortable with each other again. But in many ways it was as though three years of distance, anger, and fear had not passed them by.

Arabella truly was much too forgiving... Much too good for him... He stroked her hair lightly, rather than holding her, because he intended to get up shortly in order to check those traps they'd just been discussing. If he held her before he did that, he might decide to just not move at all for the rest of the night.

"I should do a little gathering." Arabella murmured, pressing her head more firmly against him. Her eyes were closed gently, and based on her weight against him, Erik strongly suspected she didn't want to move. "Especially if there's nothing in the traps. We can still make something … just enough to get us through to morning."

"Wild onions and acorns?" Erik snickered, kissing her brow. "That will barely get a man through five minutes, but … all right. Hopefully I can find us _something_. In the morning we should come across a farm or town. We can replenish our supplies, maybe buy a little goats milk. Something to get us into the city without looking too desperate."

"Dear God, not _goats_ milk." Arabella shuddered at this thought, making him laugh.

"Well, maybe cows' milk." he amended, making her giggle and push away from him.

"Go. Get those traps cleaned out. I'll find something to make us a stew."

Erik groaned as he pushed his way to his feet and went over to one of the horses to pull out their small iron cooking pot for her.

His search wasn't fruitless, thank God. In one trap he found a fat squirrel, and in another a scrawny hare. It wasn't much, but as Bella had said; if she included surrounding edible plant life, they might have a personal feast of sorts. He'd learned that Arabella was capable of making an incredible meal out of virtually nothing. And she was only getting better at it as they travelled.

He was stopped cold on his way back, staring from across the stream to watch a doe and her yearling fawn drinking on the opposite bank. A dozen yards further downstream, he could see Arabella had ducked herself behind a few dead bushes completely barren of leaves or buds. Not only did they not conceal her, but Erik could see and smell the fire of their camp from where he stood, making it exceptionally more impressive that the deer weren't shy about being there.

He almost didn't want to breathe, torn between the unexpected natural beauty between him and his wife, the happiness it made him feel to see mother and child drinking peacefully together, and also desperate desire to try and attack with nothing but a hunting knife in order to acquire more meat for them to eat. He was only just barely held back by the childlike awe clearly written all over Arabella's face. Apparently, even a gypsy who traveled through the wilds her entire life could still be awestruck at the sight of something so very simple.

He smirked as the doe lifted her head abruptly and turned to look off into the distance, sensing something Erik couldn't perceive before she nudged her fawn away and across the stream to end them deeper in the woods. They weren't running as if from danger, but clearly something had made the mother decide to play it safe and move them along.

He waited until they were well out of sight, not wanting to alarm them, before finally trudging carefully across some stones to reach his camp where Arabella stood staring after the deer.

"If that fawn were just a little older, I'd have gladly hunted it." he stated, not even waiting for her to notice him. She started slightly and turned to him, but didn't scold or look relieved once she caught on who was speaking. Who else, after all, could it be out here? "It didn't even have a rack yet. But maybe there will be a good buck somewhere nearby in the morning."

Arabella frowned.

"I can't imagine killing a deer." she murmured.

"Oh, my." Erik groaned. "You have a soft spot for the most easily found game around?"

"Well … yet." Bella planted her hands softly on her hips as she eyed him. "But I would still _eat_ one."

Chuckling, he sat on a nearby rock to begin skinning the animals.

"Should I save the hare skin?" he asked.

"I don't know how to tan it."

Erik shrugged.

"Yet another survival skill to learn." he sighed heavily, irritated that between them there were so many skills that they hadn't learned yet. When winter hit, knowing how to hunt, skin an animal, tan the hide, and make nice warm coverings out of the skin would certainly come in handy.

Arabella lie there in the darkness, listening to the thousands of frogs overhead and around them. There were larger frogs too, croaking in or near the stream. She'd always loved the tiny cacophony the tree frogs made almost anywhere in the world she traveled. It was a very cool night, verging on outright chilly, but she kept close enough to Erik to share his body heat.

She turned her head slowly, looking over at Erik; who lay with a mask so close that it was practically his pillow. Normally, he would wear a mask while sleeping out in the open, afraid of terrifying an accidental passer-by. He was even more afraid of just being seen and attacked merely for his looks. Still, he sometimes gave into her preference that he sleep comfortably, even if his sleep was very light and nervous.

Just then, he was reasonably certain he was _sleeping,_ due to his light snore-like breaths that faintly whistled in and out of his parted lips. But he'd often feigned sleep for long minutes before she ever realized he was aware of the world.

They had been traveling together without meeting up with any other camps, or even staying for a single night at an inn or within a city, for weeks now. Winter was on its' way, and Erik was deeply concerned about their survival. The roads they had been traveling were lesser traveled. The cities and towns were incredibly far apart. That meant they hadn't earned very much money to buy winter necessities. They hadn't even gotten a wagon or tent yet, as he'd so anticipated when they'd burned her grandmothers' belongings the day of her funeral. She knew that only added another layer of anxiety that made it difficult for him to find easy sleep.

Even if his sleep was light, it was good to see him resting more-or-less peacefully. There were so many nights that one or the other of them would be restless with nightmares. The only problem was that she did not want to leave him sleeping in that moment. As they had wandered the countryside together and grown closer and reacquainted, she'd found some rather old helpless longings returning along with the heat of her love. His music had always brought her more basic desires up to the surface and let her express them through dance - when otherwise she might have been too afraid to even admit their _existence_. Now those feelings were stronger, more mature and further separated from the fears of her past. The loneliness and the fear of not ever seeing him again made her want to surrender to the freshly excavated feelings. To grab hold of Erik and … just experience everything. Especially when she had quiet moments of reflection free of activity or distraction.

She wanted to let him sleep and get some real rest. But she also wanted to reach out and touch him. To find out what it was like to live as more than a particularly close pair of siblings. She wanted to act like a husband and a wife … as a _lover_. Even if she didn't really know whether or not she was ready to go so far with Erik just yet … she wanted _some_ of that. But his reactions from before he'd ever left haunted her, and she was a little afraid of telling or showing him that her forgiveness was complete. That she was ready for more.

What if she scared him away again?

Sighing, she slowly rolled onto her side to face him, and reached out to cup his cheek in her hand. Erik leaned his face unconsciously up into her warm palm at once, his already relaxed face growing almost serene in its' peacefulness. He always seemed to recognize her touch now, even though she didn't have too many opportunities to touch his face. Encouraged, she stroked her thumb repeatedly back and forth against the sharp edge of his protruding cheekbone.

She simply lay there like this for several minutes, watching him sleep and listening to him breathe. Then, she shifted her body forward a little at a time until their bodies were almost pressing together. Erik, still asleep, adjusted the hand he almost constantly left touching some part of her. It had been on her hip. As she moved closer, his arm slipped about her lazily, hand squeezing slightly.

It wasn't until her forehead touched his that he actively stirred. He gave a vaguely startled gasp and pulled his head back an inch, shaking it in mild confusion and defensiveness as his eyes cracked open. His entire body went rigid when his pupils registered the shadow of her nearness, then his hand squeezed at her back again, and he made another soft unintelligible murmur. After smacking his lips together a few times and licking at them for proper moisture, he opened his eyes a little more and offered what – to anyone else – would have been a grisly smile of lazy happiness.

"Mmm..." he sighed. "What's wrong?"

He was growing more awake by swift increments, his eyes scanning around them to find out why he was being wakened. She had never wakened him up in the middle of the night for no reason at all before. But he seemed to instinctively understand she wasn't in distress, so he felt rather calm himself.

"Nothing." she whispered, pressing their foreheads together again as he started to settle back into the ground. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"-S'all right." he interrupted blearily. "Can't sleep?"

"...No..." she admitted reluctantly, as he moved his arm from around her in order to reach up and tangle his fingers through her hair as was his habit.

Now his eyes were more-or-less open and concentrating on her, even if he was clearly still half-asleep.

"What's wrong?" he demanded again, but mildly.

"Nothing." Arabella insisted again. Her hand, which had never moved from his cheek, began stroking his skin again. "Just thinking."  
"About what? Do you want to start early?"

"No..."

Heat flushed Arabella's cheeks. There must have been enough moonlight, because she saw his brow furrow in confusion at whatever expression was on her face.

"Then what?" he pressed, showing how important nearly every single thought she ever had really was to him.

Arabella hesitated a long time. Erik waited patiently, although the long silence seemed to be lulling him back into a half doze. His steady gaze grew slowly smaller and smaller as his eyelids drooped half shut.

"Just … thinking about us." she finally whispered a little breathlessly.

His hand grew very still in her hair. Now she obviously had his very focused, intense attention. His eyes didn't snap back open all the way, but his pupils became fixed on her. Their eyes silently seemed to clash.

Before he could work up the courage to ask what exactly about them she was thinking over, she tilted her chin forward, and brushed her lips softly against his. She felt Erik grow statue still against her; except for the hand stroking her hair, which accidentally clenched around a fistful of it. The motion tugged at some of the strands, making a small portion of her scalp sting slightly. But it wasn't an _entirely_ painful or unpleasant feeling. She stayed that way for long seconds, holding her breath and not daring to close her eyes. Just letting her gaze stay on his own shocked stare, and feeling their lips mold slowly against each other without encouragement.

After several seconds, though, feeling foolish, she drew back a little.

She did not make the mistake of looking away in shyness or mortification. Erik would take that for shame or fear. She'd learned that much about their silent physical language to each other. She just lie there staring at him, waiting for him to react.

He stared back for long beats of her hammering heart, what seemed to be awe in his expression as his hand gently extracted from her hair to slip around to her face. Now, both of them stroked each others' cheeks.

"H-how...?" he whispered hoarsely. "How _can_ you...?"

Arabella waited for him to finish, but he didn't. Her brow furrowed a long moment in confusion.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I'm so disgusting!"

Eyes widening, Arabella pulled herself closer to him. Erik stiffened against her, obviously astonished she didn't withdraw from him at his reminder that he was _more_ than just _ugly_. As if she _needed_ reminding when her eyes worked perfectly well, even in the predawn darkness.

"Not to me." she said firmly, and simply. "Erik … we discussed this."

He looked thoughtful, as if trying to remember a conversation that took place multiple times and ought to be etched into his memory by then.

"But you still don't have to-"

"-I _wanted_ to." she interrupted quickly. "Can't you understand that, Erik? I _wanted_ to. _Still_ want to."

Erik's hand was very still against her cheek, as if it had turned to marble.

"You mean you might let me kiss you _again_ someday?" he choked out in disbelief. Apparently he'd expected her gesture to be a one-time thing and nothing more.

"_Some_day?" she echoed. "_Any_ day! Right _now_ – if you still want me to!"

Erik's shock was slowly melting away, and Arabella felt her chest relaxing slightly and letting her breathe a bit more easily.

"Really?" he whispered.

"Of course."

Suddenly, after a beat, his eyes twinkled.

"I do." he replied simply. There was such joy and humor in his gaze, but Arabella recognized the remaining words in his response. Erik was very, very good at talking. He could pontificate for hours when he felt passionate about a topic. When he was quiet or couldn't find a more verbose response, it was nearly always due to nerves.

So she leaned up, and pressed her mouth to his again. It was just a _little_ more, a _little_ deeper. Deep enough to taste his lips against hers but not in any truly tangible way. It was more … a _sense_ of a taste. Her arms wrapped around Erik's neck, and in turn he pulled her tenderly into his arms.

He didn't quite press her against him. Erik never held her too tight, even when she desperately needed him to lock her flush against him in arms that promised safety and security after a nightmare. He always made it feel as though she could slip through with ease. But they were still sturdy enough to make her know she was being held. Loved. His arms were loose nets of security, while often it was his hands pressing into her head, back, or hair that provided the stability.

Oh, the feeling of being _loved!_ She couldn't ever quite get used to it, and wondered if she would ever take it for granted. Or, would her fear forever keep nagging at the back of her mind that this was all an illusion? That a girl like her didn't deserve to be loved?

She pushed the meandering worry away and closed her eyes, letting Erik see that she felt happy and relaxed and welcoming. That she was satisfied with this.

He shifted slightly, his hips moving a little further away from her while still maintaining some form of contact. This was something she recognized in him. Sometimes in sleep they wound their bodies against each other – probably for warmth since they were both unconscious when it happened. But, just maybe, for the simple comfort of feeling each other near. In the morning it had effects on Erik that he avoided at all costs, and God forbid she acknowledged that she felt something he felt was utterly shameful happening to his body just because his wife was resting against him.

After long minutes of just slowly and tenderly kissing, Erik pressed her away from him.

"I need to go into the woods." he sighed regretfully.

Going into the woods was a ridiculous statement. They were _in_ the woods already. But she understood. It meant he had to relieve himself in some way, shape, or form that he was too disgusted to talk about more openly. Although Arabella was never exactly crass with admissions of her own bodies' needs, she at least would tell him if it was a need that would take only a minute, or something that might take much longer. Erik never told her a thing. She just had to trust he'd be near enough to hear if she cried out, and that he would return.

"Check the traps on the way back." she said, not releasing him from her arms yet. She really didn't want to, and felt the same reluctance in him. But she could also feel the tension of his body close to hers. He was uncomfortable in ways she could somewhat understand...

He kissed the tip of her nose, which made her giggle and shake her head. He did this rather often lately, and she often teased him for having some kind of a fascination with her nose just because he didn't really have one. He just shrugged her off when she did this, not uncomfortable with the relative truth of her words. Not anymore, at least.

"Go on." she pushed at him lightly, finally extracting herself from his reluctant arms and rolling onto her back to stretch out languorously. "I'll get the fire going again … as soon as I can _move_."

Erik climbed easily to his feet and, without warning, reached down to take her wrists in his hands and haul her up to her feet in one smooth motion. She squealed from the pressure that was almost pain, the exhilaration for being practically air-born, and the shock he would do something so abrupt. But her squeals melted into laughter as she landed on her feet, lost her balance, and had to be caught by one of his arms before she could feel secure on the ground again. All he'd really done was pulled her to her feet, and they rested against each other, half embracing and laughing together with their foreheads close.

"What's the rush?" she demanded through her laughter.

"The sooner the fire is built up, the sooner we eat." he stated simply, winking at her. "I'm _starving_."

Erik released her, leaving her to try and find her balance in a world where he suddenly wasn't in immediate orbit. She lightly switched from one foot to the other and back, trying to find the most comfortable standing position, and watched him walk away. Based on how he held his body, it was obvious he really was in a rush to get into the trees … and it didn't look comfortable _at all_.

She wondered if it matched the dull throbbing ache in her own body. The one that frightened her as much as it exhilarated her … and if he'd ever feel anything _other_ than disgust for those feelings.

It had just been a kiss. A simple, small embrace. She didn't feel hot all over or giddy and shaky. She didn't feel desperate for more kisses – although she very much would have enjoyed lying there and kissing him for hours. She didn't feel absolutely hot all over, with her pulse pounding in parts of her body she was normally insensible to. As much as she wanted a full, passionate, conssumated marriage … she felt happy and light.

Erik had allowed her to kiss him. He had kissed her back. And he had been just as happy as she had been about it.

Surely … surely it was a step in the right direction, at the very least?


End file.
